Fairy Circles: Tales and Legends of Giants, Dwarfs, Fairies, Water-Sprites, and Hobgoblins — John Shaqi
Fairy Circles: Tales and Legends of Giants, Dwarfs, Fairies, Water-Sprites, and HobgoblinsVillamaria
Science
Fairy Circles: Tales and Legends of Giants, Dwarfs, Fairies, Water-Sprites, and Hobgoblins
Villamaria
Children's stories; Fairy tales; Legends
Glittering veins of gold streaked the stone, and out of the dark rock
bubbled springs, whose clear waters flashed and sparkled, as if they
bore onward with them grains of the precious and much longed-for
metal. In a dark grotto lay something white and motionless like a
slumbering eagle; but at the flash of the lanterns it roused itself,
and the white serpent queen lifted her gem-crowned head. The drops
that trickled down the walls of the grotto gleamed like jewels in the
light of her diadem; but the serpent bent her head again, and coiled
herself up for further sleep, for she knew well that the little
dwarfs, unlike the robber sons of men, would never stretch forth their
hands to seize the jewel on her brow. And there, at yonder spring,
knelt a dark form busily engaged in gathering the gold sand from the
bottom of the water, and putting it into the wallet beside him; but
the figure could not be recognised in the shadow which lay deep at
that spot. But when some of the industrious little men drew near with
their flickering lanterns, the man at the spring turned his head and
nodded to them a friendly greeting, which they returned as if he was
an old and dear acquaintance.
Then the boy recognised by his grey locks and his dark eyes full of
gravity and wisdom the old man who had been showing him the mountain
mirror. He raised his eyes in astonishment from the magic glass, and
now for the first time he perceived that he held the mirror in his own
hand, and that the old man was no longer by his side.
"Ah! how thoughtless I am; I promised to help him, and now the kind
old man is tiring himself, unaided, with his heavy work," said Hans in
self-reproach. Then he hid the magic mirror in his bosom and turned
towards the hole which formed the entrance to the treasures of the
mountains. But just as he was stooping to creep in, the old man
himself came out, bearing on his shoulder the shabby wallet with its
priceless contents. "Forgive me, sir," begged Hans in a tone of true
sorrow, "for having kept my promise so ill, but my mind was
spell-bound by the wonders I beheld."
"It matters not, my son," replied the old man mildly; "I have always
had to work alone and without help, and I will continue to do so. All
I ask of thee is a night's rest on the hay and a bite of bread when
thou canst spare it. But come now! Seest thou how the cloud above the
waterfall is gleaming rosy red? It is the reflection of the dawn. I
would not that thy herds should wait for thee, and thy harsh master
find thee behindhand with thy work. So let us hasten!"
And back they hurried on the dangerous path by which they had come;
the beech leaves gleamed in the first light of the new day as they
passed through the wood, and the thrushes were just beginning their
morning song.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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