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capri0mniI've decided to make a habit of telling as many stories as I can from memory (rather than cutting and pasting, or copying from books), so that if I'm ever in a situation that calls for it (like sitting next to a bored kid at a bus stop), I know I can tell any story I know without panicking. Also, it makes it part of "the folk process," and keeps the stories alive and breathing.
So, if this is different than a version you find elsewhere, that's why: It's the version my own brain bubbled up. Behind the cut, there lies:
Once upon a time, there lived a wealthy farmer. He was the wealthiest farmer, and had the grandest estate of any place around. But he was still jealous of his neigbhors, because he had no children. And when he'd go to market, he'd have to stand there in silence while all the other farmers boasted about how strong and clever and handsome their kids all were.
One day, he came home from the market thoroughly angry, and he said to his wife: "I wish I had a son! Even if he were just a hedgehog -- I wish I had a son more than anything!"
His wife (who was part of that "anything," after all) was horrified by this, especially the hedgehog part. "Dear," she said, "you ought to be careful with wishes, because sometimes, they come true. Are you sure you don't want to take that back?"
But the farmer refused to take back his wish. And in a little time, plus nine months, his wife did give birth to a son. He was just like a tiny baby boy from the waist down, but from the waist up, he was a hedgehog.
The farmer was horrified, and he was too ashamed of this sign that his wish had come true, so he never took the boy to the priest to be christened, in cased he'd have to explain. So he just decided to call the child "Hans, my hedgehog" and be done with it.
And before long, the baby's quills hardened, and he became too prickly to cuddle or to breastfeed. So they just made a bed of straw for him behind the stove and forgot about him as much as they could.
One day, when Hans was twelve years old, his father was getting ready to go to market. He asked the maids, and the farmhands, and his wife if there were anything special they wanted him to bring back. And finally, he asked Hans.
"Yes, Father," Hans said. "Buy a saddle and bridle for my rooster. And buy me some live pigs and donkeys. And I'll go off into the forest, and raise my herds, and you will never see me again."
Well! It was an expensive request, but more than worth it, from the farmer's point of view, to be rid of this embarrassment forever. So he did as his son asked.
And when he came back, Hans saddled up his rooster and rode off into the forest with his pigs and his donkeys. And when he got to the very deepest, middle part of the forest, he spurred his rooster on, and flew to the tippy-top of the highest tree, where he could see all the roads going in and out, and could watch over his herds.
Well, three years passed, and his donkeys had babies, and his pigs had babies, and the few he had started with turned into dozens. So Hans decided it was time to go to market. He took a different road to a different market than his father went to, and once there, he sold his second and third best pigs and made a pretty penny. He sold his second and third best donkeys and made and even prettier penny. And while he was there, he saw a bagpipe maker, selling bagpipes, and he was so enchanted with the instrument that he decided to take some of his profits and buy the smallest one for himself. And what he didn't spend to buy the bagpipes, he sent by courier back to his father.
Then, he rode back to the forest, and back to the tippy-top of his tree, and there, he watched over his best pigs and donkeys as they had their babies, and practiced playing his bagpipes.
Well, some time passed (not sure how long), and a mighty king was hunting in the forest with his men, and he got thoroughly and completely lost. The hunting party came upon the herds of pigs and donkeys. But there was no pigherd's hut, or donkey herder's hut, and the king was very confused. And more than that, there was the strangest of sounds coming from the top of the big tree nearby.
So the king ordered one of his soldiers to climb the tree and find out what was going on, here.
And when the soldier came down again, he was as white as a sheet. "It's a two-headed m-monster, I think..." he said. "It's got the head of a rooster, and a head of hedgehog. And it's playing the bagpipes. Either that, or it has three heads, and is crying in pain out of two long noses."
So the king called up to the top of the tree and ordered the "monster" to come down, in the name of the King.
So Hans did. And when the king said that he was lost, Hans assured him that he could show the king the way home, since he knew all the roads leading into and out of the forest -- but in return, the king had to promise to give him the first living thing he saw when he arrived home.
The king promised, quick as a wink, certain that first thing he'd see was his old dog.
So Hans showed him the right road. And the king went down in safety, and safely returned home. And Hans returned to the top of his tree, and watched over his pigs and donkeys in piece.
Things were not so peaceful for the king, however. Instead of his old dog running to meet him, it was his only daughter. She was so grateful to see him home safe after being lost for so long, that she ran out and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. Then, she pulled back, a bit, and asked:
"Father -- what's wrong?"
And the king had to tell her how he had promised her to a hedgehog-chicken monster with either two or three heads, and a terrible voice.
Well, the princess was horrified, of course. But then, she pulled herself together. "Well," she said, "A monster like that can't be very smart, can it -- especially with its chicken brain. If he ever comes 'round here, we'll figure out how to get rid of him."
More time passed, and Hans' herds of pigs and donkeys had gotten even bigger than they had been. And he realized it had been three more years since he'd gone to market, and it was probably time to go, again. So he tucked his bagpipes under his arm, and went to market.
He sold off his second and third best from each herd again, and he made even more money then he had, before. He was about to send all the money back to his father, but then he remembered the king who'd gotten lost in the forest, and was curious to go collect on his debt. So he saved a little of his money, and used that to buy a fine scarlet coat, so he'd be fit to visit the court, and the rest he sent home to his father.
When the king's sentry saw the "two-or-three-headed monster" approaching the castle, he raised the alarm. The king ordered his soldiers to meet Hans at the gate, all bayonets drawn.
But Hans just spurred on his rooster, and flew right over the soldiers' heads, and landed neatly on the king's windowsill.
"I seriously doubt that you were first met by the army, when you arrived home," he said, "or else, you wouldn't be sitting here so comfortably, now. I suggest you keep your promise, and be honest about it. Bad things tend to happen to people who don't keep their promises."
So the king and his daughter had no choice. And the princess rode off in the carriage with Hans. He got right close to her, as if to snuggle, and then he took off his coat. His sharp quills sliced her gown to shreds, and cut her skin.
"Wear that as a sign of your broken promise and your shame," Hans said, "and go home. I don't want someone who doesn't want me."
And he rode home to his great big tree, and his pigs and donkeys. He wasn't exactly content, because he was disappointed and lonely. But things were all right, and he got to be pretty good at bagpipe playing.
Some more time passed, and a second king got lost in the forest. And just like before, the king's party came upon the pigs and donkeys, and he heard the bagpipes at the top of the tree.
So the king called up: "Come down, strange piper, in the name of the king."
So Hans flew down, and again, the king explained how he was lost, and asked if Hans knew the way out.
"Yes," said Hans, "And I'll show you the way out" (And here, hope won out over experience), "if you'll give me the first living thing you meet after you return home."
And this king, too, felt sure it would be his dog. Or that maybe a beetle crossing his path would count. So he agreed.
But no, it was his only daughter whom he saw first, just like with the first king. And he had to tell her what he had promised.
"Well," she said, "that was foolish of you -- you should have bargained for something more specific (and not me). But since you made a promise, it's your duty to keep it. And it's my duty to help you. We'll just make the best of it."
Three more years passed. And Hans was now twenty-one. He'd spent nine years alone in the forest, and he was ready to join the world of humans. So when he tucked his bagpipes under his arm, and rode to market, he drove all his pigs and all his donkeys. He sold all his donkeys for the most money ever, but he gave his pigs away to the poor for free, and no one in the village went hungry that winter.
Then, he rode off to the kingdom of the second king. If he didn't keep his promise either, Hans would think of something -- maybe join a troupe of traveling musicians. But he wasn't going back to the forest.
This time, however, the king and the princess themselves met him at the castle gate with all honors, and Hans and the princess were married.
Hans pulled the king aside, after, and told him, in a low whisper, that he would shed his hedgehog skin before getting into the marriage bed, and that four footmen should be there to catch it before it hit the ground, and throw it into the fire.
And that's what they did.
In the morning, they found Hans in the bed, fully human, and fully human-sized, but charred as black as soot. So they called the doctor, who told them to bathe him in milk and cream. And when they did that, Hans was healed, and as fully handsome and beautiful as he was human.
Since he was now a new person, they held a second wedding ceremony, and he was no longer 'Hans, my Hedgehog' but 'Prince Hans."
And he forgave his father, and invited his father and mother to come live with him at the king's royal palace.
And they lived in happiness, mostly, ever after.
So, if this is different than a version you find elsewhere, that's why: It's the version my own brain bubbled up. Behind the cut, there lies:
Once upon a time, there lived a wealthy farmer. He was the wealthiest farmer, and had the grandest estate of any place around. But he was still jealous of his neigbhors, because he had no children. And when he'd go to market, he'd have to stand there in silence while all the other farmers boasted about how strong and clever and handsome their kids all were.
One day, he came home from the market thoroughly angry, and he said to his wife: "I wish I had a son! Even if he were just a hedgehog -- I wish I had a son more than anything!"
His wife (who was part of that "anything," after all) was horrified by this, especially the hedgehog part. "Dear," she said, "you ought to be careful with wishes, because sometimes, they come true. Are you sure you don't want to take that back?"
But the farmer refused to take back his wish. And in a little time, plus nine months, his wife did give birth to a son. He was just like a tiny baby boy from the waist down, but from the waist up, he was a hedgehog.
The farmer was horrified, and he was too ashamed of this sign that his wish had come true, so he never took the boy to the priest to be christened, in cased he'd have to explain. So he just decided to call the child "Hans, my hedgehog" and be done with it.
And before long, the baby's quills hardened, and he became too prickly to cuddle or to breastfeed. So they just made a bed of straw for him behind the stove and forgot about him as much as they could.
One day, when Hans was twelve years old, his father was getting ready to go to market. He asked the maids, and the farmhands, and his wife if there were anything special they wanted him to bring back. And finally, he asked Hans.
"Yes, Father," Hans said. "Buy a saddle and bridle for my rooster. And buy me some live pigs and donkeys. And I'll go off into the forest, and raise my herds, and you will never see me again."
Well! It was an expensive request, but more than worth it, from the farmer's point of view, to be rid of this embarrassment forever. So he did as his son asked.
And when he came back, Hans saddled up his rooster and rode off into the forest with his pigs and his donkeys. And when he got to the very deepest, middle part of the forest, he spurred his rooster on, and flew to the tippy-top of the highest tree, where he could see all the roads going in and out, and could watch over his herds.
Well, three years passed, and his donkeys had babies, and his pigs had babies, and the few he had started with turned into dozens. So Hans decided it was time to go to market. He took a different road to a different market than his father went to, and once there, he sold his second and third best pigs and made a pretty penny. He sold his second and third best donkeys and made and even prettier penny. And while he was there, he saw a bagpipe maker, selling bagpipes, and he was so enchanted with the instrument that he decided to take some of his profits and buy the smallest one for himself. And what he didn't spend to buy the bagpipes, he sent by courier back to his father.
Then, he rode back to the forest, and back to the tippy-top of his tree, and there, he watched over his best pigs and donkeys as they had their babies, and practiced playing his bagpipes.
Well, some time passed (not sure how long), and a mighty king was hunting in the forest with his men, and he got thoroughly and completely lost. The hunting party came upon the herds of pigs and donkeys. But there was no pigherd's hut, or donkey herder's hut, and the king was very confused. And more than that, there was the strangest of sounds coming from the top of the big tree nearby.
So the king ordered one of his soldiers to climb the tree and find out what was going on, here.
And when the soldier came down again, he was as white as a sheet. "It's a two-headed m-monster, I think..." he said. "It's got the head of a rooster, and a head of hedgehog. And it's playing the bagpipes. Either that, or it has three heads, and is crying in pain out of two long noses."
So the king called up to the top of the tree and ordered the "monster" to come down, in the name of the King.
So Hans did. And when the king said that he was lost, Hans assured him that he could show the king the way home, since he knew all the roads leading into and out of the forest -- but in return, the king had to promise to give him the first living thing he saw when he arrived home.
The king promised, quick as a wink, certain that first thing he'd see was his old dog.
So Hans showed him the right road. And the king went down in safety, and safely returned home. And Hans returned to the top of his tree, and watched over his pigs and donkeys in piece.
Things were not so peaceful for the king, however. Instead of his old dog running to meet him, it was his only daughter. She was so grateful to see him home safe after being lost for so long, that she ran out and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. Then, she pulled back, a bit, and asked:
"Father -- what's wrong?"
And the king had to tell her how he had promised her to a hedgehog-chicken monster with either two or three heads, and a terrible voice.
Well, the princess was horrified, of course. But then, she pulled herself together. "Well," she said, "A monster like that can't be very smart, can it -- especially with its chicken brain. If he ever comes 'round here, we'll figure out how to get rid of him."
More time passed, and Hans' herds of pigs and donkeys had gotten even bigger than they had been. And he realized it had been three more years since he'd gone to market, and it was probably time to go, again. So he tucked his bagpipes under his arm, and went to market.
He sold off his second and third best from each herd again, and he made even more money then he had, before. He was about to send all the money back to his father, but then he remembered the king who'd gotten lost in the forest, and was curious to go collect on his debt. So he saved a little of his money, and used that to buy a fine scarlet coat, so he'd be fit to visit the court, and the rest he sent home to his father.
When the king's sentry saw the "two-or-three-headed monster" approaching the castle, he raised the alarm. The king ordered his soldiers to meet Hans at the gate, all bayonets drawn.
But Hans just spurred on his rooster, and flew right over the soldiers' heads, and landed neatly on the king's windowsill.
"I seriously doubt that you were first met by the army, when you arrived home," he said, "or else, you wouldn't be sitting here so comfortably, now. I suggest you keep your promise, and be honest about it. Bad things tend to happen to people who don't keep their promises."
So the king and his daughter had no choice. And the princess rode off in the carriage with Hans. He got right close to her, as if to snuggle, and then he took off his coat. His sharp quills sliced her gown to shreds, and cut her skin.
"Wear that as a sign of your broken promise and your shame," Hans said, "and go home. I don't want someone who doesn't want me."
And he rode home to his great big tree, and his pigs and donkeys. He wasn't exactly content, because he was disappointed and lonely. But things were all right, and he got to be pretty good at bagpipe playing.
Some more time passed, and a second king got lost in the forest. And just like before, the king's party came upon the pigs and donkeys, and he heard the bagpipes at the top of the tree.
So the king called up: "Come down, strange piper, in the name of the king."
So Hans flew down, and again, the king explained how he was lost, and asked if Hans knew the way out.
"Yes," said Hans, "And I'll show you the way out" (And here, hope won out over experience), "if you'll give me the first living thing you meet after you return home."
And this king, too, felt sure it would be his dog. Or that maybe a beetle crossing his path would count. So he agreed.
But no, it was his only daughter whom he saw first, just like with the first king. And he had to tell her what he had promised.
"Well," she said, "that was foolish of you -- you should have bargained for something more specific (and not me). But since you made a promise, it's your duty to keep it. And it's my duty to help you. We'll just make the best of it."
Three more years passed. And Hans was now twenty-one. He'd spent nine years alone in the forest, and he was ready to join the world of humans. So when he tucked his bagpipes under his arm, and rode to market, he drove all his pigs and all his donkeys. He sold all his donkeys for the most money ever, but he gave his pigs away to the poor for free, and no one in the village went hungry that winter.
Then, he rode off to the kingdom of the second king. If he didn't keep his promise either, Hans would think of something -- maybe join a troupe of traveling musicians. But he wasn't going back to the forest.
This time, however, the king and the princess themselves met him at the castle gate with all honors, and Hans and the princess were married.
Hans pulled the king aside, after, and told him, in a low whisper, that he would shed his hedgehog skin before getting into the marriage bed, and that four footmen should be there to catch it before it hit the ground, and throw it into the fire.
And that's what they did.
In the morning, they found Hans in the bed, fully human, and fully human-sized, but charred as black as soot. So they called the doctor, who told them to bathe him in milk and cream. And when they did that, Hans was healed, and as fully handsome and beautiful as he was human.
Since he was now a new person, they held a second wedding ceremony, and he was no longer 'Hans, my Hedgehog' but 'Prince Hans."
And he forgave his father, and invited his father and mother to come live with him at the king's royal palace.
And they lived in happiness, mostly, ever after.
no subject
Date: 2007-09-07 01:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-07 02:21 am (UTC)It is a strange image even with the story. It's never explained how a hedgehog boy trained a rooster to bridle and saddle.
...I bet it all started when someone made a stray comment, like: "You know, if you were a hedgehog, a chicken would be just the size of a horse!"
And someone else said: "a flying horse!"
And someone else said: "what could be weirder than that?"
And somebody answered: "Well, if he played the bagpipes..."
And then that inspired someone to make up the story... maybe...
I'm thinking of adding some sardonic comment as a caption (if "sardonic" is really the word I want). But I can't decide what it should be...
no subject
Date: 2007-09-07 06:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-07 07:25 am (UTC)