April 2017
T. Schreiber Studio |
Articulating the Arts:
|
World Folklore
Below is a list of all the stories our playwrights were able to choose from. Just below that is the actual stories that inspired the plays that were selected for performance. If you'd like to read ALL of the stories, click HERE.
STORY |
LIST |
*The Golden Key, Brothers Grimm, German *Apollo & Daphne, Greek *Arkansas Traveler - S.E. Schlosser, Arkansas *Enchanted, S.E. Schlosser, New Jersey *Brer Rabbit and the Tar Baby, Georgia The King of Sharks, Hawaii *The Devil as Partner, Switzerland *Jamie Freel and the Young Lady - Ireland The Battle of the Wind and the Rain-Philippines *Rainbow Bird (An Aboriginal Folktale from Northern Australia) *Old Rinkrank, Brothers Grimm *The Boy Who Cried Wolf, Aesop's Fables, Greek *The Emperor's New Clothes, Hans Christian Andersen, Danish *Sun, Moon, & Talia/Sleeping Beauty/Briar Rose - Europe *Odin and the Mead of Inspiration - Norway *The Wolf of Zhongshan (or Mr. Dongguo and the Wolf) - China |
*Too Many Captain Cooks - Australia *Sedna - Eskimo/Inuit *One Thousand and One Nights - Persian/Arabic *The Smith and the Devil - Indo-European *The Slave Girl who tried to Kill her Mistress - Nigerian *The Boy who Drew Cats - Japanese Vasilisa the Beautiful - Russian, *The Stone by the Door - Morocco *The Mango Teacher - Thailand Secrets of the River - Persia *How Snakes got their Poison - Zora Neale Hurston, African American *No Mockingbirds on Fridays - Zora Neale Hurston, African American *Pecos Bill - Cowboy tales *Division of Two Tribes - Comanche Shoshone Nihts'iil - Alaska *First Salmon Story - Alaska |
Selected Stories
*The Boy who Drew Cats
Origin: Japanese, collected by Lafcadio Hearn in Japanese Fairy Tales
Lafcadio Hearn was known for bringing Japanese folklore to the West in the 1850s. Four tales from Hearn were adapted by master director Masaki Kobayashi into the classic film Kwaidan.
A farmer had many hardworking children, but one son was unfit for hard work. He was very clever, but too weak and small to be of any help in the fields. The farmer thought he would make a good priest, so he took the boy to the local priest and arranged for him to be his acolyte. The boy was a good student and very obedient, but he had one fault: he drew cats everywhere. Walls, floors, book margins, everywhere. He wouldn’t stop no matter how many times he was told. Eventually the priest decided the boy was an artist, not a priest, and sent him on his way with the advice “Avoid large places at night – keep to small.” The boy didn’t understand, but went on his way. Many miles on, he came across a large temple. The boy didn’t know it, but a goblin had scared off the priests and taken possession of the place, killing any warriors who showed up. The boy entered the temple and it seemed empty. He couldn’t resist painting cats all over the place. Before he went to sleep, he remembered the priest’s advice and slept in a small cabinet. During the night, he heard monstrous screams. He hid til morning, and eventually came out. The goblin lay dead in the middle of the floor, and the painted cats’ mouths were now red with blood. He realized the goblin had been killed by his cats. He went on to become a famous artist.
Full story: http://www.surlalunefairytales.com/books/japan/hearn/boydrewcats.html
Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Boy_Who_Drew_Cats
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One Thousand and One Nights Origin: Persian/Arabic
One Thousand and One Nights is a large collection of Middle Eastern and South Asian folk tales. Some of the most famous stories associated with the 1001 Nights, including Aladdin’s Wonderful Lamp, Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, and The Seven Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor, were not included in the original Arabic collection, but were added later by European translators to create a more comprehensive grouping of notable Arabic lore.
King Shehriyar and his brother King Shahzeman ruled nearby kingdoms. While preparing to visit his brother, Shahzeman caught his wife in bed with a slave and killed them both. Upon reaching his brother’s kingdom, he spied Shehriyar’s wife in an orgy with 20 women and 20 slaves. Shahzeman told his brother everything and showed him the next day’s orgy. Distraught, they left the castle and wandered into the wilderness, where they came upon a genie who kept a beautiful kidnapped damsel in a box. When the genie fell asleep, the woman beckoned to the two kings and commanded them to sleep with her, or she’d wake the genie. They did, and she revealed that she’d slept with 570 men behind the genie’s back despite his power. The two kings decided that all women are unfaithful and too crafty to be stopped. Shahzeman went home, vowing to never marry again. Shehriyar ordered his Vizier to kill the unfaithful queen. Every night for the next 3 years, Shehriyar took a new wife and had the Vizier kill her the next morning. The Vizier had two daughters, Scheherazade and Dinarzade. Scheherazade, hatching a clever plan, begged her father to let her wed the king. Reluctantly, he agreed. Every night from then on (with Dinarzade’s help), Scheherazade would tell the king most of a story, and every morning the king spared her life so he could hear the rest the next night. At last, after 1001 nights had passed and she had borne him 3 children, the king officially declared that her life was spared for good.
Full Story: http://www.wollamshram.ca/1001/Payne/tnon/tnon01.htm
Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/One_Thousand_and_One_Nights
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*The Emperor's New Clothes (Danish: Kejserens nye Klæder) Hans Christian Andersen
This tale has been translated into over 100 languages. "The Emperor’s New Clothes" was first published with "The Little Mermaid" in Copenhagen by C. A. Reitzel on 7 April 1837 as the third and final installment of Andersen's Fairy Tales Told for Children. The tale has been adapted to various media, including the musical stage and animated film. Andersen's manuscript was at the printer's when he was suddenly inspired to change the original climax of the tale from the emperor's subjects admiring his invisible clothes to that of the child's cry. There are many theories about why he made this change. Most scholars agree that from his earliest years in Copenhagen, Andersen presented himself to the Danish bourgeoisie as the naïvely precocious child not usually admitted to the adult salon. "The Emperor's New Clothes" became his expose of the hypocrisy and snobbery he found there when he finally gained admission. Andersen's decision to change the ending may have occurred after he read the manuscript tale to a child, or had its source in a childhood incident similar to that in the tale. He later recalled standing in a crowd with his mother waiting to see KingFrederick VI. When the king made his appearance, Andersen cried out, "Oh, he's nothing more than a human being!" His mother tried to silence him by crying, "Have you gone mad, child?" Whatever the reason, Andersen thought the change would prove more satirical.
A vain Emperor who cares about nothing except wearing and displaying clothes hires two weavers who promise him the finest, best suit of clothes from a fabric invisible to anyone who is unfit for his position or "hopelessly stupid." The Emperor's ministers cannot see the clothes themselves, but pretend that they can for fear of appearing unfit for their positions and the Emperor does the same. Finally the weavers report that the suit is finished, they mime dressing him and the Emperor marches in procession before his subjects. The townsfolk play along with the pretense, not wanting to appear unfit for their positions or stupid. Then a child in the crowd, too young to understand the desirability of keeping up the pretense, blurts out that the Emperor is wearing nothing at all and the cry is taken up by others. The Emperor suspects the assertion is true, but continues the procession.
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Jamie Freel and the Young Lady: A Donegal Tale
Ireland
Down in Fannet, in times gone by, lived Jamie Freel and his mother. Jamie was the widow's sole support; his strong arm worked for her untiringly, and as each Saturday night came round, he poured his wages into her lap, thanking her dutifully for the halfpence which she returned him for tobacco. He was extolled by his neighbours as the best son ever known or heard of. But he had neighbours, of whose opinion he was ignorant, neighbours who lived pretty close to him, whom he had never seen, who are, indeed, rarely seen by mortals, except on May eves and Halloweens.
An old ruined castle, about a quarter of a mile from his cabin, was said to be the abode of the "wee folk." Every Halloween were the ancient windows lighted up, and passers-by saw little figures flitting to and fro inside the building, while they heard the music of pipes and flutes. It was well known that fairy revels took place; but nobody had the courage to intrude on them.
Jamie had often watched the little figures from a distance, and listened to the charming music, wondering what the inside of the castle was like; but one Halloween he got up and took his cap, saying to his mother, "I'm awa' to the castle to seek my fortune." "What!" cried she, "would you venture there? you that's the poor widow's one son! Dinna be sae venturesome an' foolitch, Jamie! They'll kill you, an' then what'll come o' me?" "Never fear, mother; nae harm 'ill happen me, but I maun gae."
He set out, and as he crossed the potato field, came in sight of the castle, whose windows were ablaze with light, that seemed to turn the russet leaves, still clinging to the crab tree branches, into gold. Halting in the grove at one side of the ruin, he listened to the elfin revelry, and the laughter and singing made him all the more determined to proceed. Numbers of little people, the largest about the size of a child of five years old, were dancing to the music of flutes and fiddles, while others drank and feasted.
"Welcome, Jamie Freel! Welcome, welcome, Jamie!" cried the company, perceiving their visitor. The word "Welcome" was caught up and repeated by every voice in the castle. Time flew, and Jamie was enjoying himself very much, when his hosts said, "We're going to ride to Dublin tonight to steal a young lady. Will you come too, Jamie Freel?" "Ay, that will I!" cried the rash youth, thirsting for adventure.
A troop of horses stood at the door. Jamie mounted, and his steed rose with him into the air. He was presently flying over his mother's cottage, surrounded by the elfin troop, and on and on they went, over bold mountains, over little hills, over the deep Lough Swilley, over towns and cottages, when people were burning nuts, and eating apples, and keeping merry Halloween. It seemed to Jamie that they flew all round Ireland before they got to Dublin.
"This is Derry," said the fairies, flying over the cathedral spire; and what was said by one voice was repeated by all the rest, till fifty little voices were crying out, "Deny! Derry! Derry!" In like manner was Jamie informed as they passed over each town on the rout, and at length he heard the silvery voices cry, "Dublin! Dublin!" It was no mean dwelling that was to be honoured by the fairy visit, but one of the finest houses in Stephen's Green.
The troop dismounted near a window, and Jamie saw a beautiful face, on a pillow in a splendid bed. He saw the young lady lifted and carried away, while the stick which was dropped in her place on the bed took her exact form. The lady was placed before one rider and carried a short way, then given another, and the names of the towns were cried out as before.
They were approaching home. Jamie heard "Rathmullan," "Milford," "Tamney," and then he knew they were near his own house. "You've all had your turn at carrying the young lady," said he. "Why wouldn't I get her for a wee piece?"
"Ay, Jamie," replied they, pleasantly, "you may take your turn at carrying her, to be sure."
Holding his prize very tightly, he dropped down near his mother's door. "Jamie Freel, Jamie Freel! is that the way you treat us?" cried they, and they too dropped down near the door. Jamie held fast, though he knew not what he was holding, for the little folk turned the lady into all sorts of strange shapes. At one moment she was a black dog, barking and trying to bite; at another, a glowing bar of iron, which yet had no heat; then, again, a sack of wool.
But still Jamie held her, and the baffled elves were turning away, when a tiny woman, the smallest of the party, exclaimed, "Jamie Freel has her awa' frae us, but he sall hae nae gude o' her, for I'll mak' her deaf and dumb," and she threw something over the young girl. While they rode off disappointed, Jamie lifted the latch and went in.
"Jamie, man!" cried "his mother, "you've been awa' all night; what have they done on you?" "Naething bad, mother; I ha' the very best of gude luck. Here's a beautiful young lady I ha' brought you for company. "Bless us an' save us!" exclaimed the mother, and for some minutes she was so astonished that she could not think of anything else to say.
Jamie told his story of the night's adventure, ending, by saying, "Surely you wouldna have allowed me to let her gang with them to be lost forever?"
"But a lady, Jamie! How can a lady eat we'er poor diet, and live in we'er poor way? I ax you that, you foolitch fellow?"
"Weel, mother, sure it's better for her to be here nor over yonder," and he pointed in the direction of the castle.
Meanwhile, the deaf and dumb girl shivered in her light clothing, stepping close to the humble turf fire. "Poor crathur, she's quare and handsome! Nae wonder they set their hearts on her," said the old woman, gazing at her guest with pity and admiration. "We maun dress her first; but what, in the name o' fortune, hae I fit for the likes o' her to wear?"
She went to her press in "the room," and took out her Sunday gown of brown drugget; she then opened a drawer, and drew forth a pair of white stockings, a long snowy garment of fine linen, and a cap, her "dead dress," as she called it.
These articles of attire had long been ready for a certain triste ceremony, in which she would some day fill the chief part, and only saw the light occasionally, when they were hung out to air; but she was willing to give even these to the fair trembling visitor, who was turning in dumb sorrow and wonder from her to Jamie, and from Jamie back to her.
The poor girl suffered herself to be dressed, and then sat down on a "creepie" in the chimney corner, and buried her face in her hands.
"What'll we do to keep up a lady like thou?" cried the old woman. "I'll work for you both, mother," replied the son.
"An' how could a lady live on we'er poor diet?" she repeated. "I'll work for her," was all Jamie's answer. He kept his word. The young lady was very sad for a long time, and tears stole down her cheeks many an evening while the old woman spun by the fire, and Jamie made salmon nets, an accomplishment lately acquired by him, in hopes of adding to the comfort of his guest.
But she was always gentle, and tried to smile when she perceived them looking at her; and by degrees she adapted herself to their ways and mode of life. It was not very long before she began to feed the pig, mash potatoes and meal for the fowls, and knit blue worsted socks. So a year passed, and Halloween came round again. "Mother," said Jamie, taking down his cap, "I'm off to the ould castle to seek my fortune." "Are you mad, Jamie?" cried his mother, in terror; "sure they'll kill you this time for what you done on them last year." Jamie made light of her fears and went his way.
As he reached the crab tree grove, he saw bright lights in the castle windows as before, and heard loud talking. Creeping under the window, he heard the wee folk say, "That was a poor trick Jamie Freel played us this night last year, when he stole the nice young lady from us." "Ay," said the tiny woman, "an' I punished him for it, for there she sits, a dumb image by his hearth; but he does na' know that three drops out o' this glass I hold in my hand wad gie her her hearing and her speeches back again."
Jamie's heart beat fast as he entered the hall. Again he was greeted by a chorus of welcomes from the company: "Here comes Jamie Freel! welcome, welcome, Jamie!" As soon as the tumult subsided, the little woman said, "You be to drink our health, Jamie, out o' this glass in my hand." Jamie snatched the glass from her and darted to the door. He never knew how he reached his cabin, but he arrived there breathless, and sank on a stove by the fire.
"You're kilt surely this time, my poor boy," said his mother. "No, indeed, better luck than ever this time!" and he gave the lady three drops of the liquid that still remained at the bottom of the glass, notwithstanding his mad race over the potato field. The lady began to speak, and her first words were words of thanks to Jamie. The three inmates of the cabin had so much to say to one another, that long after cock-crow, when the fairy music had quite ceased, they were talking round the fire.
"Jamie," said the lady, "be pleased to get me paper and pen and ink, that I may write to my father, and tell him what has become of me." She wrote, but weeks passed, and she received no answer. Again and again she wrote, and still no answer. At length she said, "You must come with me to Dublin, Jamie, to find my father." "I ha' no money to hire a car for you," he replied, "an' how can you travel to Dublin on your foot?"
But she implored him so much that he consented to set out with her, and walk all the way from Fannet to Dublin. It was not as easy as the fairy journey; but at last they rang the bell at the door of the house in Stephen's Green. "Tell my father that his daughter is here," said she to the servant who opened the door. "The gentleman that lives here has no daughter, my girl. He had one, but she died better nor a year ago."
"Do you not know me, Sullivan?" "No, poor girl, I do not." "Let me see the gentleman. I only ask to see him." "Well, that's not much to ax; we'll see what can be done." In a few moments the lady's father came to the door. "Dear father," said she, "don't you know me?" "How dare you call me your father?" cried the old gentleman, angrily. "You are an impostor. I have no daughter."
"Look in my face, father, and surely you'll remember me." "My daughter is dead and buried. She died a long, long time ago." The old gentleman's voice changed from anger to sorrow. "You can go," he concluded. "Stop, dear father, till you look at this ring on my finger. Look at your name and mine engraved on it." "It certainly is my daughter's ring; but I do not know how you came by it. I fear in no honest way." "Call my mother, she will be sure to know me," said the poor girl, who, by this time, was crying bitterly.
"My poor wife is beginning to forget her sorrow. She seldom speaks of her daughter now. Why should I renew her grief by reminding her of her loss?" But the young lady persevered, till at last the mother was sent for. "Mother," she began, when the old lady came to the door, "don't you know your daughter?" "I have no daughter; my daughter died and was buried a long, long time ago." "Only look in my face, and surely you'll know me." The old lady shook her head. "You have all forgotten me; but look at this mole on my neck. Surely, mother, you know me now?" "Yes, yes," said the mother, " my Gracie had a mole on her neck like that; but then I saw her in her coffin, and saw the lid shut down upon her."
It became Jamie's turn to speak, and he gave the history of the fairy journey, of the theft of the young lady, of the figure he had seen laid in its place, of her life with his mother in Fannet, of last Halloween, and of the three drops that had released her from her enchantment. She took up the story when he paused, and told how kind the mother and son had been to her. The parents could not make enough of Jamie. They treated him with every distinction, and when he expressed his wish to return to Fannet, said they did not know what to do to show their gratitude.
But an awkward complication arose. The daughter would not let him go without her. "If Jamie goes, I'll go too," she said. "He saved me from the fairies, and has worked for me ever since. If it had not been for him, dear father and mother, you would never have seen me again. If he goes, I'll go too." This being her resolution, the old gentleman said that Jamie should become his son-in-law. The mother was brought from Fannet in a coach and four, and there was a splendid wedding. They all lived together in the grand Dublin house, and Jamie was heir to untold wealth at his father-in-law's death.
http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/abduct.html#recovered
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Enchanted - A New Jersey Ghost Story
retold by S.E. Schlosser
I roam alone in the woods, listening to the enchanted children's voices calling to me. "Little girl, come and play," they sing over and over in my ears. Sometimes I hear them from the window of my room. They giggle and whisper words that I cannot make out. They sound like so much fun that I run outside my house as fast as I can to try to catch them. I plunge into the woods, calling back to the children, but no one answers. So I stand still as a mouse, trying to hear where they are hiding.
I find it odd that no one else can hear the children. I tell my mother about the game of hide-and-seek that they play with me, but I know she doesn't believe me. She just ruffles my hair and chuckles about my bright imagination. Papa can't hear them because he is too busy reading the paper and going to work. He says I will grow up to be a writer.
One morning, I hear the enchanted children calling to me from my porch. "Sara, come out and play." I finish my breakfast so fast that the milk spills from my cereal bowl and run outside with my blue smock still dripping wet.
"Where are you?" I call as I run into the woods. I can hear them giggling, and footsteps scampering first here, then there. I laugh aloud and follow them up hill and then down. Only my foot slips in the damp leaves and I slide too fast, too fast. I fall backward, wind-milling my arms. Then a terrible pain shoots through my head and is strikes against a rock. I see a blinding light, and then nothing. I hear my name called from very far away: "Sara, Sara!" I open my eyes and sit up, rubbing my hair.
Something isn't right, but I cannot tell at first what it is. Then I look at my hand, and realize I can see the ground right through it. That's strange, I think, standing up and brushing dead leaves from my blue smock. I look around to see who was calling my name, but I see no one in the woods with me. I notice that the trees look taller than I remember them, and the pathway is overgrown with weeds.
I make my way home slowly, hoping Mother can explain to me why I can see through my hands; why the trees are so tall. But someone else is staying at my house. Mother and Papa must have gone away on vacation. I climb up into my favorite tree to wait for their return.
After a few minutes, a lady comes outside and calls up to me. She is dressed strangely in a man's long pants and a rough work shirt. I feel shy, so I pretend to be invisible. I see the lady blink a few times and rub at her eyes, as if she can no longer see me. She goes back into the house, muttering to herself and pours herself a cup of water.
Then I hear the enchanted children calling out to me again from the woods. I slid out of the branches of the tree and run to answer them. At least they haven't changed. I can see the children clearly now, as they play hide and seek in the woods. I join their games, laughing sometimes when one of the boys tweaks me on the ear or when one of the girls compliments me on my dress and blue smock. This is fun!
But sometimes the enchanted children go away to another place, a place I can't follow. When they vanish, I wander back to my house, wondering when Mother and Papa will come home. Or I play in the alley by the woods, though I don't like it when strangers try to talk to me.
One day when the children go away, I follow my nose to the door of a pretty lady who is baking cookies. I peek into the kitchen window and smile at her. How I want one of those cookies! The lady looks out the window and sees me. She smiles and then comes to the front door. I know she is going to offer me a cookie, so I scamper to the door and wait eagerly for it to open. When it does, I grin at the pretty lady, but she looks right through me, a puzzled frown on her face. Maybe she is blind, I think and so I say politely: "May I come in?" right into her ear. The lady gives a start, backs hastily inside the house and shuts the door in my face. No cookies for me then. I sigh and go back into the woods to wait for the enchanted children.
When the children come to the woods, I am happy again and we play for days and days. We sing and we dance and the boys play tricks and we climb all the trees and fall out of them. But they only come during the day. The nights are lonely, and sometimes I wait for hours and hours during the day before they come. I like to go to the pretty lady's house and sit on the half-wall while I wait. Maybe one day she will offer me a cookie. The lady's grown-up daughter passes me sometimes on her way in and out of the house. Once the daughter asked me where I lived, but I was too shy to speak to her. The daughter put some pretty metal cats near the wall where I like to sit. I play with them when I feel lonely and no one else is around.
It is beautiful here in the woods, and I like playing with the enchanted children. But often I wish Mother and Papa would come home. I miss them so much. But they never do.
http://americanfolklore.net/folklore/2010/08/enchanted.html
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Odin and the Mead of Inspiration (Norway)
At the end of the war between the Æsir and the Vanir, all of the gods and goddesses sealed their truce by spitting into a great jar. Rather than letting this spittle be wasted, the gods decided to fashion a man from the spittle. His name was Kvasir, and he was so steeped in the knowledge of the nine worlds that he became renowned for his ability to answer people's questions. No one could ask him a question to which he did not know the answer.Kvasir traveled widely teaching people his knowledge. He came to be the guest of two dwarves, Fjalar and Galar. Seeking a word in private with Kvasir, they brought him to a room and killed him. The dwarves drained out all his blood, catching it into two large jars and a cauldron. To the blood, they added honey, which formed a divine mead. Anyone who drank it became a wise man or a poet.
Fjalar and Galar kept the mead for themselves. When the Æsir sent a messenger asking about Kvasir, he was told that the wise man had choked on his own learning and died. Later, when the giant Gilling and his wife visited the dwarves, the brothers drowned Gilling and crushed his wife under a millstone.
When Gilling and his wife failed to return home, their son Suttung went in search of them. Suttung seized Fjalar and Galar and carried them far out into the ocean to a small rock rising just above the waves. Suttung pointed out that the rising tide would soon cover the rock, and that it was much too far back to the shore for the dwarves to swim.
Fjalar and Gilling begged for quarter. In exchange for their lives, they gave Suttung the three containers of mead. Suttung took the precious liquid directly to his home near the mountain Hnitbjörg. Here, he created a chamber deep within the mountain, and into it, he placed the two jars and the cauldron of mead for safekeeping. Suttung instructed his daughter Gunnloð to guard the mead by day and by night.
Word got back to the Æsir about what had happened to Kvasir and about the treasure of the mead. Óðin decided that he would journey to Jötenheim to recover the mead. He disguised himself as a man, and called himself Bölverkr (grief worker).
Bölverkr traveled to Jötenheim and eventually came to a valley where nine men were working in a field, scything grass. Bölverkr could see that the work was slow going because the scythes were not sharp. Striking up a conversation, Bölverkr learned that the men worked for Baugi, the brother of Suttung. Bölverkr then offered to sharpen their scythes. They gratefully accepted and were amazed to find how much quicker the work went after Bölverkr had finished his sharpening. They offered to buy Bölverk's whetstone from him.
Bölverkr responded by throwing the whetstone high into the air. The men all jostled for position to catch the whetstone and, turning as one, they all cut each other's throats with their scythes and fell dead. Bölverkr caught the whetstone as it fell, and continued on his journey.
That evening, Bölverkr made an appearance at the farm of Baugi, the giant, and asked for hospitality. Baugi was not in a pleasant mood, describing how his nine workmen had killed each other, and he despaired of finding replacements that late in the season. Bölverkr offered to do the work of all nine men for the rest of the season, providing that Baugi helped him obtain a drink of the mead of poetry from his brother, Suttung. Baugi said that he was not in a position to grant such a request. In the end, Bölverkr agreed to work for Baugi for the rest of the season, for which Baugi would ask his brother for a drink of mead for Bölverkr.
Bölverkr did the work of nine men and more for the rest of the summer. At the end of the summer, Bölverkr and Baugi approached Suttung and asked for a drink of mead. Suttung refused outright.
Bölverkr went to work on Baugi to enlist his help in tricking Suttung out of the mead. Eventually, Baugi agreed to help. Together, they went to the mountain Hnitbjörg. Bölverkr pulled out an auger and directed Baugi to use it to drill through the side of the mountain into the chamber where the mead was stored. Eventually, Baugi announced that he had broken through into the chamber. Bölverkr went up to the hole, and blew into it. Stone chips blew back into his face, proving that the hole didn't penetrate the stone. Realizing that Baugi had lied to him and was trying to cheat him, Bölverkr harshly set Baugi back to work.
A second time, Baugi announced he had breached the mountain. This time, Bölverk's breath of air blew the stone chips into the mountain, so he knew Baugi was right. Immediately, Bölverkr turned himself into the shape of a snake, and slithered into the hole. Baugi tried to skewer the snake with the auger, but he was too late.
Once inside the chamber, Bölverkr returned his shape to that of a man. He presented himself to Gunnloð, Suttung's daughter, who guarded the mead while sitting on a stool of solid gold. But at the sight of Bölverkr, Suttung's warnings to guard the mead left Gunnloð's head. Bölverk's beguiled her, and for three days, they lay together in the chamber in the heart of the mountain.
At the end of the three days, Gunnloð was ready to give Bölverk anything he desired. He asked for three drinks of the precious mead. In his first swallow, he emptied the first big jar. The second swallow emptied the second jar. And Bölverk's last swallow emptied the cauldron.
With all of the divine mead held in his mouth, Óðin changed himself into an eagle and flew away, heading for Ásgarð. When Suttung saw him, he, too, changed himself into an eagle and gave chase. They flew across Jötenheim, across the mountains, towards Ásgarð. When the Æsir saw them, they put out containers in the courtyard. As Óðin flew over the courtyard, he spat the mead out into the containers. Suttung's mead was safely stored away. Óðin gave it to the Æsir, and occasionally he gives it to those men who are skilled at composing poetry.
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First Salmon Story - Alaska
The Tanaina Athabascans used to tell a story about a salmon. It goes something like this:
One spring day when it was just about time for the salmon run to begin, a rich Tanaina man put out his fish trap as he always did at that time of year. He hoped to catch enough salmon to last his family for the whole year. The man told his daughter not to go near the fish trap.
His daughter was curious. She wondered why her father did not want her to see the trap. So, instead of obeying him, she walked down to the river toward the trap. "Ill be back in a little while," she called to her father as she walked away.
When the girl got down to the river, she went straight to the trap. A big king salmon was swimming around in the water, and she started talking to him.
They talked and talked, and before she knew what was happening, she had turned into a salmon herself! She slid into the water and disappeared with the big king salmon.
The girl's father looked everywhere for his daughter. He could not find her. Every day he called her and searched for her, but she never returned.
The next year, when the salmon run was about to start again, the rich man set out his fish trap as usual. The first time he checked it, he saw that it was fill with many beautiful salmon. The man threw them all out on the grass, and began cleaning them. He left the smallest fish for last.
Finally, all but the last small fish had been cleaned. The man turned to pick up the little salmon --and saw that, where the fish had been, there was now a little boy!
The man walked around the boy, staring at him. He walked around him three times. And finally, the third time, he knew why the boy looked familiar. He looked just like the man's lost daughter. The man suddenly knew that this young boy was his grandson, the son of his missing daughter.
The boy finally spoke to his grandfather. He told him all the things he should do to show his respect for the salmon. He told the man how to cut the sticks to dry the salmon, and how to be careful not to drop the salmon on the ground while they were being dried. And he told the man that each year, when the first salmon of the year was caught, the people should hold a ceremony for that salmon. They must wash themselves, and dress up in their finest clothes. They must find a weed near timberline, and burn it. And they must clean and cook the first fish without breaking its backbone. The insides must be thrown back into the water.
The boy explained that if the man and his people did all these things, they would have a good year, and would catch many salmon. But if they did not follow the rules, the salmon would never return to them.
The Tanaina used this story to explain to their children how the First Salmon Ceremony got started and why it was performed each year in the springtime. The people did everything the young salmon-boy had told his grandfather to do.
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No Mockingbirds on Fridays - African American Folktales (Zora Neale Hurston)
"Well," said Big Sweet. "Nobody never sees no mockin' bird on Friday. They ain't on earth dat day."
"Well, if they ain't on earth, where is they?"
"They's all gone to hell on Friday with a grain of sand in they mouth to help out they friend." She continued:
Once there was a man and he was very wicked. He useter rob and steal and he was always in a fight and killin' up people. But he was awful good to birds and mockin' birds was his favorite. This was a long time ago before de man first started to buildin' de Rocky Mountains. Well, ' way after while somebody kilt him, and being he had done lived so bad, when he died he went straight to hell. De birds all hated it mighty bad when they seen him in hell, so they tried to git him out. But the fire was too hot so they give up--all but de mockin' birds. They come together and decided to tote sand until they squenwhiched de fire in hell. So they set a day and they all agreed on it. Every Friday they totes sand to hell. And that's how come nobody don't never see no mockin' birds on Friday.