Maol a Chliobain heard the giant, and as quick as she could she put the strings of horse hair that were about her own neck and about the necks of her sisters about the necks of the giant’s daughters; and the knobs that were about the necks of the giant’s daughters about her own neck and about the necks of her sisters; and she laid down so quietly. The bald, rough-skinned gillie came, and he killed one of the daughters of the giant, and he took the blood to him. He asked for MORE to be brought him. He killed the next. He asked for MORE ; and he killed the third one.
Maol a Chliobain awoke her sisters, and she took them with her on top of her, and she took to going. She took with her a golden cloth that was on the bed, and it called out.
The giant perceived her, and he followed her. The sparks of fire that she was putting out of the stones with her heels, they were striking the giant on the chin; and the sparks of fire that the giant was bringing out of the stones with the points of his feet, they were striking Maol a Chliobain in the back of the head. It is this was their going till they reached a river. She plucked a hair out of her head and made a bridge of it, and she run over the river, and the giant could not follow her. Maol a Chliobain leaped the river, but the river the giant could not leap.
‘Thou art over there, Maol a Chliobain.’ ‘I am, though it is hard for thee.’ ‘Thou killedst my three bald brown daughters.’ ‘I killed them, though it is hard for thee.’ ‘And when wilt thou come again?’ ‘I will come when my business brings me.’
They went on forward till they reached the house of a farmer. The farmer had three sons. They told how it happened to them. Said the farmer to Maol a Chliobain, ‘I will give my eldest son to thy eldest sister, and get for me the fine comb of gold, and the coarse comb of silver that the giant has.’ ‘It will cost thee no more,’ said Maol a Chliobain.
She went away; she reached the house of the giant, she got in unknown; she took with her the combs, and out she went. The giant perceived her, and after her he was till they reached the river. She leaped the river, but the river the giant could not leap. ‘Thou art over there, Maol a Chliobain.’ ‘I am, though it is hard for thee.’ ‘Thou killedst my three bald brown daughters.’ ‘I killed them, though it is hard for thee.’ ‘Thou stolest my fine comb of gold, and my coarse comb of silver.’ ‘I stole them, though it is hard for thee.’ ‘When wilt thou come again?’ ‘I will come when my business brings me.’
She gave the combs to the farmer, and her big sister and the farmer’s big son married. ‘I will give my middle son to thy middle sister, and get me the giant’s sword of light.’ ‘It will cost thee no more,’ said Maol a Chliobain. She went away, and she reached the giant’s house; she went up to the top of a tree that was above the giant’s well. In the night came the bald rough-skinned gillie with the sword of light to fetch water. When he bent to raise the water, Maol a Chliobain came down and she pushed him down in the well and she drowned him, and she took with her the sword of light.
The giant followed her till she reached the river; she leaped the river, and the giant could not follow her. ‘Thou art over there, Maol a Chliobain.’ ‘I am, if it is hard for thee.’ ‘Thou killedst my three bald brown daughters.’ ‘I killed, though it is hard for thee.’ ‘Thou stolest my fine comb of gold, and my coarse comb of silver.’ ‘I stole, though it is hard for thee.’ ‘Thou killedst my bald rough-skinned gillie.’ ‘I killed, though it is hard for thee.’ ‘Thou stolest my sword of light.’ ‘I stole, though it is hard for thee.’ ‘When wilt though come again?’ ‘I will come when my business brings me.’ She reached the house of the farmer with the sword of light; and her middle sister and the middle son of the farmer married. ‘I will give thyself my youngest son,’ said the farmer, ‘and bring me a buck that the giant has.’ ‘It will cost thee no more,’ said Maol a Chliobain. She went away, and she reached the house of the giant; but when she had hold of the buck, the giant caught her. ‘What,’ said the giant, ‘wouldst thou do to me: if I had done as much harm to thee as thou hast done to me, I would make thee burst thyself with milk porridge; I would then put thee in a pock! I would hang thee to the roof-tree; I would set fire under thee; and I would set on thee with clubs till thou shouldst fall as a faggot of withered sticks on the floor.’ The giant made milk porridge, and he made her drink it. She put the milk porridge about her mouth and face, and she laid over as if she were dead. The giant put her in a pock, and he hung her to the roof-tree; and he went away, himself and his men, to get wood to the forest. The giant’s mother was within. When the giant was gone, Maol a Chliobain began – ‘ ’Tis I am in the light! ’Tis I am in the city of gold!’ ‘Wilt thou let me in?’ said the carlin. ‘I will not let thee in.’ At last she let down the pock. She put in the carlin, cat, and calf, and cream-dish. She took with her the buck and she went away. When the giant came with his men, himself and his men began at the bag with the clubs. The carlin was calling, ‘ ’Tis myself that’s in it.’ ‘I know that thyself is in it,’ would the giant say, as he laid on to the pock. The pock came down as a faggot of sticks, and what was in it but his mother. When the giant saw how it was, he took after Maol a Chliobain; he followed her till she reached the river. Maol a Chliobain leaped the river, and the giant could not leap it. ‘Thou art over there, Maol a Chliobain.’ ‘I am, though it is hard for thee.’ ‘Thou killedst my three bald brown daughters.’ ‘I killed, though it is hard for thee.’ ‘Thou stolest my golden comb, and my silver comb.’ ‘I stole, though it is hard for thee.’ ‘Thou killedst my bald rough-skinned gillie.’ ‘I killed, though it is hard for thee.’ ‘Thou stolest my sword of light.’ ‘I stole, though it is hard for thee.’ ‘Thou killedst my mother.’ ‘I killed, though it is hard for thee.’ ‘Thou stolest my buck.’ ‘I stole, though it is hard for thee.’ ‘When wilt thou come again?’ ‘I will come when my business brings me.’ ‘If thou wert over here, and I yonder,’ said the giant, ‘what wouldst thou do to follow me?’ ‘I would stick myself down, and I would drink till I should dry the river.’ The giant stuck himself down, and he drank till he burst. Maol a Chliobain and the farmer’s youngest son married.
THE WISE LITTLE GIRL
(RUSSIAN)
wo brothers were traveling together: one was poor and the other was rich, and each had a horse, the poor one a mare, and the rich one a gelding. They stopped for the night, one beside the other. The poor man’s mare bore a foal during the night, and the foal rolled under the rich man’s cart. In the morning the rich man roused his poor brother, saying: ‘Get up, brother. During the night my cart bore a foal.’ The brother rose and said: ‘How is it possible for a cart to give birth to a foal? It was my mare who bore the foal!’ The rich brother said: ‘If your mare were his mother, he would have been found lying beside her.’ To settle their quarrel they went to the authorities. The rich man gave the judges money and the poor man presented his case in words.
Finally word of this affair reached the tsar himself. He summoned both brothers before him and proposed to them four riddles: ‘What is the strongest and swiftest thing in the world? What is the fattest thing in the world? What is the softest thing? And what is the loveliest thing?’ He gave them three days’ time and said: ‘On the fourth day come back with your answers.’
The rich man thought and thought, remembered his godmother, and went to ask her advice. She bade him sit down to table, treated him to food and drink, and then asked: ‘Why are you so sad, my godson?’ ‘The sovereign has proposed four riddles to me, and given me only three days to solve them.’ ‘What are the riddles? Tell me.’ ‘Well, godmother, this is the first riddle: “What is the strongest and swiftest thing in the world?”’ ‘That’s not difficult! My husband has a bay mare; nothing in the world is swifter than she is; if you lash her with a whip she will overtake a hare.’ ‘The second riddle is: “What is the fattest thing in the world?”’ ‘We have been feeding a spotted boar for the last two years; he has become so fat that he can barely stand on his legs.’ ‘The third riddle is: “What is the softest thing in the world?�
��’ ‘That’s well known. Eider down – you cannot think of anything softer.’ ‘The fourth riddle is: “What is the loveliest thing in the world?”’ ‘The loveliest thing in the world is my grandson Ivanushka.’ ‘Thank you, godmother, you have advised me well. I shall be grateful to you for the rest of my life.’
As for the poor brother, he shed bitter tears and went home He was met by his seven-year-old daughter – she was his only child – who said: ‘Why are you sighing and shedding tears, Father?’ ‘How can I help sighing and shedding tears? The tsar has proposed four riddles to me, and I shall never be able to solve them.’ ‘Tell me, what are these riddles?’ ‘Here they are, my little daughter: “What is the strongest and swiftest thing in the world? What is the fattest thing, what is the softest thing, and what is the loveliest thing?”’ ‘Father, go to the tsar and tell him that the strongest and fastest thing in the world is the wind, the fattest is the earth, for she feeds everything that grows and lives; the softest of all is the hand, for whatever a man may lie on, he puts his hand under his head; and there is nothing lovelier in the world than sleep.’
The two brothers, the poor one and the rich one, came to the tsar. The tsar heard their answers to the riddles, and asked the poor man: ‘Did you solve these riddles yourself, or did someone solve them for you?’ The poor man answered: ‘Your Majesty, I have a seven-year-old daughter, and she gave me the answers.’ ‘If your daughter is so wise, here is a silken thread for her; let her weave an embroidered towel for me by tomorrow morning.’ The peasant took the silken thread and came home sad and grieving. ‘We are in trouble,’ he said to his daughter. ‘The tsar has ordered you to weave a towel from this thread.’ ‘Grieve not, Father,’ said the little girl. She broke off a twig from a broom, gave it to her father, and told him: ‘Go to the tsar and ask him to find a master who can make a loom from this twig; on it I will weave his towel.’ The peasant did as his daughter told him. The tsar listened to him and gave him a hundred and fifty eggs, saying: ‘Give these eggs to your daughter; let her hatch one hundred and fifty chicks by tomorrow.’
The peasant returned home, even more sad and grieving than the first time. ‘Ah, my daughter,’ he said, ‘you are barely out of one trouble before another is upon you.’ ‘Grieve not, Father,’ answered the seven-year-old girl. She baked the eggs for dinner and for supper and sent her father to the king. ‘Tell him,’ she said to her father, ‘that one-day grain is needed to feed the chicks. In one day let a field be plowed and the millet sown, harvested, and threshed; our chickens refuse to peck any other grain.’ The tsar listened to this and said: ‘Since your daughter is so wise, let her appear before me tomorrow morning – and I want her to come neither on foot nor on horseback, neither naked nor dressed, neither with a present nor without a gift.’ ‘Now,’ thought the peasant, ‘even my daughter cannot solve such a difficult riddle; we are lost.’ ‘Grieve not,’ his seven-year-old daughter said to him. ‘Go to the hunters and buy me a live hare and a live quail.’ The father bought her a hare and a quail.
Next morning the seven-year-old girl took off her clothes, donned a net, took the quail in her hand, sat upon the hare, and went to the palace. The tsar met her at the gate. She bowed to him, saying, ‘Here is a little gift for you, Your Majesty,’ and handed him the quail. The tsar stretched out his hand, but the quail shook her wings and – flap, flap! – was gone. ‘Very well,’ said the tsar, ‘you have done as I ordered you to do. Now tell me – since your father is so poor, what do you live on?’ ‘My father catches fish on the shore, and he never puts bait in the water; and I make fish soup in my skirt.’ ‘You are stupid! Fish never live on the shore, fish live in the water.’ ‘And you – are you wise? Who ever saw a cart bear foals? Not a cart but a mare bears foals.’
The tsar awarded the foal to the poor peasant and took the daughter into his own palace; when she grew up he married her and she became the tsarina.
BLUBBER BOY
(INNUIT)
nce there was a girl whose boyfriend drowned in the sea. Her parents could do nothing to console her. Nor did any of the other suitors interest her – she wanted the fellow who drowned and no one else. Finally she took a chunk of blubber and carved it into the shape of her drowned boyfriend. Then she carved the boyfriend’s face. It was a perfect likeness.
‘Oh, if only he were real!’ she thought.
She rubbed the blubber against her genitals, round and round, and suddenly it came alive. Her handsome boyfriend was standing in front of her. How delighted she was! She presented him to her parents, saying:
‘As you can see, he didn’t drown, after all . . .’
The girl’s father gave his daughter permission to marry. Now she went with her blubber boy to a small hut just outside the village. Sometimes it would get very warm inside this hut. And then the blubber boy would start to get quite weary. At which point he would say: ‘Rub me, dear.’ And the girl would rub his entire body against her genitals. This would revive him.
One day the blubber boy was hunting harbor seals and the sun beat down on him harshly. As he paddled his kayak home, he started to sweat. And as he sweated, he got smaller. Half of him had melted away by the time he reached the shore. Then he stepped out of the kayak and fell to the ground, a mere pile of blubber.
‘What a pity,’ said the girl’s parents. ‘And he was such a nice young man, too . . .’
The girl buried the blubber beneath a pile of stones. Then she went into mourning. She plugged up her left nostril. She did not sew. She ate neither the eggs of sea-birds nor walrus meat. Each day she visited the blubber in its grave and talked to it and as she did so, walked around the grave three times in the direction of the sun.
After the period of mourning, the girl took another chunk of blubber and began carving again. Again she carved it into the shape of her drowned boyfriend and again rubbed the finished product against her genitals. Suddenly her boyfriend was standing beside her, saying, ‘Rub me again, dear . . .’
THE GIRL WHO STAYED IN THE FORK OF A TREE
(WEST AFRICAN)
his is what a woman did.
She was then living in the bush, never showing herself to anyone. She had living with her just one daughter, who used to pass the day in the fork of a tree making baskets.
One day there appeared a man just when the mother had gone to kill game. He found the girl making baskets as usual. ‘Here now!’ he said. ‘There are people here in the bush! And that girl, what a beauty! Yet they leave her alone. If the king were to marry her, would not all the other queens leave the place?’
Going back to the town, he went straight to the king’s house and said, ‘Sire, I have discovered a woman of such beauty that, if you call her to this place, all the queens you have here will make haste to go away.’
The following morning people were called together and set to grind their axes. Then they started for the bush. As they came in view of the place, they found the mother had once more gone to hunt.
Before going, she had cooked porridge for her daughter and hung meat for her. Then only had she started on her expedition.
The people said, ‘Let us cut down the tree on which the girl is.’
So they put the axes to it. The girl at once started this song:
‘Mother, come back!
Mother, here is a man cutting our shade tree.
Mother, come back!
Mother, here is a man cutting our shade tree.
Cut! Here is the tree falling in which I eat.
Here it is falling.’
The mother dropped there as if from the sky:
‘Many as you are, I shall stitch you with the big needle.
Stitch! Stitch!’
They at once fell to the ground . . . The woman left just one to go back and report.
‘Go,’ she said, ‘and tell the news.’ He went . . .
When he came to the town the people asked, ‘What has happened?’
‘There,’ he said, ‘where we have been! Things are ra
ther bad!’
Likewise, when he stood before the king, the king asked, ‘What has happened?’
‘Sire,’ he said, ‘we are all undone. I alone have come back.’
‘Bakoo! You are all dead! If that is so, tomorrow go to the kraal over there and bring more people. Tomorrow morning let them go and bring me the woman.’
They slept their fill.
The next morning early, the men ground their axes and went to the place.
They, too, found the mother gone, while the porridge was ready there, and the meat was hanging on the tree . . .
‘Bring the axes.’ Forthwith they went at the shade tree. But the song had already started:
‘Mother, come back!
Mother, here is a man cutting our shade tree.
Mother, come back!
Mother, here is a man cutting our shade tree.
Cut! Here is the tree falling in which I eat.
Here it is falling.’
The mother dropped down among them, singing in her turn:
‘Many as you are, I shall stitch you with the big needle.
Stitch! Stitch!’
They were dead. The woman and her daughter picked up the axes . . .
‘Olo!’ said the king when he was told. ‘Today let all those that are pregnant give birth to their children.’
So one woman after another straightway brought forth her child. Soon there was a whole row of them.
Then the whole band departed, making a confused noise.
When the girl saw that, she said, ‘There is no joke about it now. There comes a red army with the umbilical cords still hanging on.’
They found her at her own place in the fork of the tree.
‘Let us give them some porridge,’ thought the girl.
She just plastered the porridge on their heads, but the children did not eat it.
Angela Carter's Book Of Fairy Tales Page 5