[From Zwehrn (probably Frau Viehmann). First published in the edition of 1819. About the Grimm Collection.]
There was once a man adept in many arts. He’d fought in the war and had conducted himself bravely and well, but when the war was over, he received his discharge and three farthings for traveling expenses. “Just wait!” he said, “I won’t put up with that. If I find the right people, the king will yet have to turn over the treasures of the entire country to me.”
He went angrily into the forest and saw standing there a man who had pulled up six trees like so many straws of grain. “Will you be my servant and travel with me?” he said to him. “Yes,” answered the other, “but first I want to bring the little bundle of brush-wood home to my mother,” and, taking one of the trees, twisted it around the other five, put the bundle on his shoulder and carried it off. Then he came back and went along with his master, who said, “We two ought surely to make our way anywhere in the world.”
When they’d gone some distance, they found a huntsman who was kneeling down; he had raised his gun and was taking aim. The master said to him, “Huntsman, what do you want to shoot at?” “Two miles from here,” he answered, “a fly is sitting on the branch of an oak tree; I want to shoot out its left eye.” “Oh, come with me,” said the man; “if we three stay together, we ought to make our way anywhere in the world.” The huntsman was willing and went with him.
They came to seven windmills whose sails were turning at a great rate, and yet there was no wind from any quarter and not a leaf was stirring. The man said, “I don’t know what’s driving the windmills; there’s not a breath of air stirring,” and went on with his servants. When they’d gone on two miles, they saw a man sitting in a tree holding one of his nostrils and blowing out of the other. “Goodness! what are you doing up there?” asked the man. The other answered, “Two miles from here are seven windmills; see, I’m blowing at them and making them go.” “Oh, come with me,” said the man; “if we four stay together, we ought to make our way anywhere in the world.” Then the blower climbed down the tree and went along.
After some time they saw a man who was standing on one leg; he had unbuckled the other and laid it beside him. The master said, “You’ve certainly made yourself comfortable for a rest.” “I’m a runner,” he answered, “and so as not to run altogether too fast, I’ve unbuckled one of my legs. When I run on both legs, I’m swifter than a bird in flight.” “Oh, come with me. If we five stay together, we ought to make our way anywhere in the world.” So he went with them, and it wasn’t long before they met a man who was wearing a cap which he had perched entirely on one ear. “Have some manners, have some manners!” said the master, “don’t put your cap on one ear. You look like a Tom-Fool.” “I mustn’t,” said the other, “for when I put my cap on straight, there’s a terrible frost, and the birds in the air freeze and drop dead to earth.” “Oh, come with me,” said the master; “if we six stay together, we ought to make our way anywhere in the world.”
Now the six came to a city where the king had proclaimed that whoever was willing to race against his daughter and won was to be her husband, but should he lose, he would have to pay for it with his head. The man reported for the competition and said, “I want my servant to run for me.” “Then,” answered the king, “you must also pledge his life so that both his head and yours will be at stake.” When that had been agreed upon and settled, the man buckled on the runner’s other leg and said to him, “Now hurry up and do your part so that we may win.” Now it had been agreed that whichever was the first to fetch water from a distant well would be the winner. The runner was given a jug and the king’s daughter one as well, and they started running at the same time. But in a jiffy, when the king’s daughter had gone but a short distance, the spectators could no longer see the runner, and it was as if a gust of wind had blown past. In a short time he reached the well, filled his jug with water, and turned about again. Halfway home, however, he was overcome with weariness, set down the jug, lay down, and fell asleep. In order not to be too comfortable and so as to wake up again soon, he used as a pillow a horse’s skull which was lying on the ground.
Meanwhile the king’s daughter, who was a good runner too, at least as good as an ordinary human being, had reached the well and was hurrying back with her jug full of water. When she saw the runner lying there asleep, she was glad and said, “The enemy has been delivered into my hands,” emptied his jug, and ran on. All would have been lost if by good luck the keen-eyed huntsman hadn’t been standing up on the castle and taking everything in. Then he said, “Just the same, the king’s daughter isn’t going to win out against us,” loaded his gun and shot so skillfully that he shot the horse’s skull from under the runner’s head without hurting him. Then the runner awoke, jumped up, and saw that his jug was empty and that the king’s daughter was way ahead. But he didn’t lose heart, ran back to the well with the jug, filled it again with water, and was home ten minutes before the king’s daughter. “You see,” he said, “this is the first time I’ve picked up my feet; what I was doing before wasn’t really running at all.”
The king, however, was vexed, and his daughter even more so, that a discharged common soldier like that should carry her off; they took council together as to how to get rid of him and his companions. Then the king said to her, “I’ve found a way; don’t be alarmed; they won’t get back home,” and said to them, “Now have a good time eating and drinking,” and led them to a room with an iron floor and whose doors were also of iron and the windows guarded with iron bars. In the room was a table set with delicious food. The king said to them, “Just go in and enjoy yourselves,” and when they were inside had the door locked and bolted. Then he had the chef come and ordered him to make a fire under the room till the iron got red hot. The chef did so, and the fire started, and as they were sitting at table, the six in the room got very warm and thought it was on account of the food. When, however, it kept getting hotter and they wanted to get out and found the door and the windows locked, they saw that the king had evil designs and meant to suffocate them. “But he won’t succeed,” said the man with the cap, “I’ll bring on a frost that will put the fire to shame and make it creep away.”
Then he set his cap on straight, and at once such a frost descended that all the heat disappeared and the food in the dishes began to freeze. When a few hours had passed, the king supposed they had perished in the heat. He had the door opened and was going to see about them himself, but when the door opened, all six of them were there hale and hearty and said they were glad to be able to get out and warm themselves, for in the great cold in the room the food was freezing fast to the plates. The king went angrily down to the chef, scolded him, and asked why he hadn’t done as he’d been ordered. “There’s fire enough there,” answered the chef, “just see for yourself.” The king saw that an enormous fire was burning under the iron room and realized that he couldn’t do anything to the six that way.
The king pondered anew how he might rid himself of the bad guests, had the master come, and said, “If you’re willing to accept money and surrender your right to my daughter, you shall have as much as you want.” “Why, yes, Sir King,” he answered, “give me as much as my servant can carry and I won’t demand your daughter.” The king agreed, and the man went on to say, “I’ll come, then, in a fortnight and fetch it.” Then he summoned all the tailors in the whole realm; they had to sit for two weeks and sew a sack. When it was finished, the strong man, the one able to pull up trees, had to take the sack on his shoulders and go with it to the king. “What powerful fellow is that who’s carrying on his shoulders a bale of canvas as big as a house?” said the king. He was frightened and thought, “What a lot of gold he’ll carry off!”
He had brought a barrel of gold that took sixteen of the strongest men to carry, but the strong man seized it with one hand and put it in the sack, saying, “Why don’t you bring more right away; that hardly covers the bottom.” The king gradually had his whole treasure brought, and the strong man stuffed it into the sack, but it didn’t half fill it. “Bring along more,” he cried, “those few crumbs aren’t filling it up!” Then seven thousand more carts of gold from all over the realm had to be driven there, and the strong man stuffed them into his sack along with the oxen that were hitched to them. “I shan’t waste much time over inspection,” he said, “but will take what comes, just so it will fill the sack.” When everything was in the sack, there was still room for a lot more, and he said, “I just want to make an end of the matter; of course one sometimes ties up a sack even if it isn’t quite full.” Then he hoisted it on his back and went off with his companions.
When the king saw that one man was carrying away the wealth of the entire country, he grew angry and had his cavalry mount and pursue the six, with orders to take the sack away from the strong man. Two regiments soon overtook them and called out to them, “You’re prisoners! Lay down the sack of gold or you’ll be cut down.” “What are you saying?” said the blower, “we’re prisoners, are we? You’re more likely to go dancing about in the air!” held one nostril and with the other blew at the two regiments. Then they went in every direction, up into the blue and away over hill and dale, one this way, the other that. A sergeant begged for mercy, saying he had nine wounds and was a good fellow who didn’t deserve the affront. Then the blower let up a little, so that he came down again unharmed, and said to him, “Now go home to the king and tell him just to send some more cavalry. I’d blow them all into the air.” When the king received this message, he said, “Let the fellows go; there’s something uncanny about them.”
So the six brought their wealth home, divided it among themselves, and lived happily until their death.
