[Note: this tale first appeared as such in the edition of 1819; it too is a conflation by Wilhelm Grimm, and not a tale as actually found anywhere in German oral tradition. The head of the story (up to and including the abandonment of the two boys in the forest) came from the Haxthausen family, who obtained it from somewhere in the vicinity of Paderborn; the rest of the piece—from the abandonment of the boys on a forester’s doorstep onward—Wilhelm derived from another narrative belonging to the Schwalm district in Hesse. About the Grimm Collection.]
Once upon a time there were two brothers, one rich and one poor. The rich brother was a goldsmith and of evil disposition; the poor brother, who earned his living making brooms, was good and honest. The poor brother had two children, twin brothers who were as like as two peas. From time to time the two boys would go to the rich uncle’s house and once in a while would get something to eat from the scraps. Now the poor man, when going into the forest to gather faggots, happened to see a bird that was of solid gold and more beautiful than any he’d ever laid eyes on before. He picked up a pebble, threw it at it, and was lucky enough to hit it. However, only one gold feather dropped down, and the bird flew away. The man took the feather and brought it to his brother, who, looking at it, said, “It’s solid gold,” and gave him a lot of money for it. Next day the man was climbing a birch tree to cut a few branches; then the same bird flew out of it, and after a search the man found a nest with an egg in it, and the egg was of gold. He took the egg home and showed it to his brother, who again said, “It’s solid gold,” and gave him what it was worth. Finally the goldsmith said, “I’d certainly like to have the bird itself!” The poor man went a third time into the forest and again saw the gold bird sitting in a tree. He picked up a stone, brought the bird down, and took it to his brother, who gave him a whole lot of money for it. “Now I’ve enough to get along on,” thought the poor man and went home content.
The goldsmith was clever and guileful and well knew what kind of bird it was. He called his wife and said, “Roast me the gold bird and see to it that no part of it is lost. I want to eat it all myself.” Now this was no ordinary bird but was of such marvelous power that whoever ate its heart and liver would find a gold piece under his pillow every morning. The wife prepared the bird, put it on a spit, and roasted it. While it was on the fire and the woman by chance had to leave the kitchen on account of other work, the poor broommaker’s two children came in, stopped before the spit and gave it a couple of turns, and since just then two little pieces dropped out of the bird into the pan, one of them said, “Let’s eat the two little pieces. I’m so hungry, and no one will notice it.” Then both ate the two pieces. The woman came along, however, and seeing them eating something, said, “What have you been eating?” “A couple of pieces that dropped out of the bird,” they answered. “That was the heart and liver,” said the woman terribly frightened, and that her husband shouldn’t miss them and get angry, she quickly killed a cockerel, took out its heart and liver, and put them in the gold bird. When the bird was done, she served it to the goldsmith, who ate it all himself and left nothing. The following morning, however, when he reached under his pillow expecting to fetch out the gold piece, there was no more there than any other time.
The two children didn’t know what their good fortune was. Next morning when they got up, something fell to the ground with a ringing sound, and when they picked it up, there were two gold pieces. They took them to their father, who, astonished, said, “How can this have happened?” When the next morning they again found two gold pieces and every day the same, he went to his brother and told him the strange story. The goldsmith knew at once how this had come about and that the children had eaten the gold bird’s heart and liver, and in order to avenge himself and because he was envious and hardhearted, he said to the father, “Your children are in league with the Evil One. Don’t take the gold and don’t tolerate them any longer in your house, for he has a hold on them and may bring you yourself to damnation.” The father was afraid of the Evil One and, hard as it was for him, took the twins out into the forest and sad of heart left them there.
Now the two children ran about in the forest, tried to find the way home but couldn’t find it, and went farther and farther astray. Finally they met a huntsman, who asked, “Whose children are you?” “We’re the poor broommaker’s boys,” they answered and told him that their father didn’t want to keep them at home any longer because every morning there was a gold piece under their pillows. “Well,” said the huntsman, “that isn’t really anything terrible as long as you remain honest and don’t turn into lazybones.” Since he liked the children and had none of his own, the good man took them home with him, saying, “I’m willing to be your father and bring you up.” He taught them hunting and, in case they might need them in the future, saved for them the gold piece that each found on getting up in the morning.
When they were grown up, their foster father one day took them along with him into the forest and said, “Today you’re to shoot your final test so that I may release you from your apprenticeship and declare you huntsmen.” They went along with him to the hunting station and waited a long time, but no game appeared. The huntsman looked up and seeing a flock of snow-geese flying in a triangle, said to one of them, “Bring down one from each corner,” and the boy was successful in his final test. Soon after another formation came flying along in the shape of a figure two; then the huntsman had the other boy likewise bring down one bird from each corner, and his final test was successful, too. Then the foster father said, “I release you; you’re accomplished huntsmen.” Then the two brothers went into the forest together, took counsel, and came to an agreement. When that evening they sat down to supper, they said to their foster father, “We shan’t touch the food or eat a morsel until you grant us one request.” “What is your request?” he said. “We’ve now mastered our craft,” they answered, “and must try our skill out in the wide world, too; so give us leave to depart and go our way.” Joyfully the old man said, “You’re speaking like good huntsmen. What you ask is just what I’ve been wishing. Go forth and you’ll get on well.” Then they ate and drank happily together.
When the appointed day arrived, the foster father gave them each a good gun and a dog and had each take as much as he wanted from his share of the gold pieces that had been saved up. He went with them for a bit of the way and, when he said good-bye, gave them a bright and shiny knife, saying, “If ever you separate, be sure to drive the knife into a tree at the parting of your ways. Then if one comes back, he’ll be able to see how his absent brother has fared, for the side of the blade facing the way either of you goes will rust if he dies but will stay shiny as long as he’s alive.” The two brothers kept on and on and got into a forest so large that they couldn’t possibly get out of it in one day, so they spent the night there, eating what they’d put in the hunting pouches. They went on a second day, too, without getting out. Since they had nothing to eat, one of them said, “We’ve got to shoot something, otherwise we’ll go hungry,” loaded his gun and looked about. When an old hare came running by, he raised his gun, but the hare cried out,
Dear huntsman, let me live
And I’ll even give you two of my young.
Forthwith it hopped into the bushes and fetched two of its young. However, the little animals played so gaily and were so nice that the huntsmen hadn’t the heart to kill them, so they kept them, and the little hares followed at their heels. Soon after a fox slunk by. They were about to shoot it, but the fox called out,
Dear huntsman, let me live
And I’ll even give you two of my young.
It, likewise, brought two fox cubs, which the huntsmen didn’t want to kill, either, but added them to the hares for company and they followed them. Not long after a wolf came out of the thicket. The huntsmen aimed at it, but the wolf cried,
Dear huntsman, let me live
And I’ll even give you two of my young.
The huntsmen added the two wolf cubs to the other animals, and they went along with them. Then came a bear, who very much wanted to trot about alive a while longer and called out,
Dear huntsman, let me live
And I’ll even give you two of my young.
The two young bears were added to the others, and now there were already eight of them. Finally, who should come along but a lion shaking its mane, but the huntsmen weren’t afraid of it and aimed their guns at it. The lion also said,
Dear huntsman, let me live
And I’ll even give you two of my young.
It, too, fetched its cubs, and so the huntsmen had two lions, two bears, two wolves, two foxes, and two hares, which followed them and served them. Meanwhile none of this had satisfied their hunger, and they said to the foxes, “Listen, you skulkers, get us something to eat, for you’re artful and crafty.” “Not far from here”, they answered, “is a village where in the past we’ve got many a chicken. We’ll show you the way there.” They went into the village, bought themselves some food, also had their animals fed, and then went on. The foxes knew about the neighborhood, knew where the chicken yards were, and could guide the huntsmen properly everywhere.
They moved about for a time but could find no position where they might stay together, so they said, “There’s no other way; we must separate.” They divided the animals between them so that each got one lion, one bear, one wolf, one fox, and one hare. Then they said good-bye, vowed brotherly love until death, and drove the knife their foster father had given them into a tree. Thereupon, one went east, the other west.
Together with his animals the youngest reached a city that was all hung with black crepe. He went into an inn and asked the innkeeper if he couldn’t put his animals up. The innkeeper gave them a stable with a hole in the wall; then the hare crept through and fetched a head of cabbage for itself while the fox got a hen and, when he had eaten that, the cock to boot. The wolf, the bear, and the lion being too big couldn’t get out, so the innkeeper had them taken right to where a cow was lying in the grass that they might eat their fill. When the huntsman had cared for his animals, the first thing he did was to ask the innkeeper why the city was hung with mourning crepe. “Because tomorrow our king’s only daughter is going to die”, said the innkeeper. “Is she mortally ill?” asked the huntsman. “No,” answered the innkeeper, “she’s hale and hearty, but she’s got to die just the same.” “Why so?” asked the huntsman. “Outside the city is a high mountain where a dragon lives which must every year have a pure virgin, otherwise it ravages the whole country. All virgins have now been delivered up, and not one is left but the king’s daughter. There’s no mercy, however; she must be delivered up to it, and that’s to take place tomorrow.” “Why don’t they kill the dragon?” said the huntsman. “Alas!” answered the innkeeper, “so many knights have tried it, but all have paid for it with their lives. The king has promised to give his daughter in marriage to the man who conquers the dragon, and he’s also to inherit the kingdom after his death.”
The huntsman said nothing further but next morning took his animals and with them climbed up the dragon mountain. At the top stood a little church, and on the altar were three tumblers, and by them was a piece of paper with the words written on it, “Whoever drains the tumblers will become the strongest man on earth and will wield the sword which lies buried outside the threshold.” The huntsman didn’t take a drink but went out and looked for the sword in the ground, couldn’t budge it, however. Then he went back and drained the tumblers and was now strong enough to draw out the sword, and his hand was able to wield it with great ease. When the hour came for the maiden to be delivered up to the dragon, she was escorted out by the king, the marshal, and the courtiers. From afar she saw the huntsman up on the dragon mountain and thought that the dragon was standing there waiting for her. She didn’t want to go, but finally she had to make the painful journey, for otherwise the whole city would have been lost. The king and courtiers returned home greatly grieving, but the king’s marshal had to remain and witness everything from a distance.
When the king’s daughter got to the top of the mountain, it wasn’t the dragon that was there but the young huntsman, who consoled her and said that he was going to save her, led her into the church, and locked her up in it. Shortly after the seven-headed dragon came along with a great roar and on seeing the huntsman was astonished and said, “What are you doing up here on the mountain?” “I want to fight you,” answered the huntsman. “So many a knight has lost his life here!” said the dragon, “I’ll settle with you, too,” and breathed fire from seven mouths. The fire was supposed to light the dry grass and the huntsman was supposed to suffocate in the fire and vapor, but the animals came running up and trampled out the fire. Then the dragon went for the huntsman, but the latter brandished his sword so that it sang in the air and cut off three of its heads. Then the dragon got really furious, rose up in the air, spewed flames over the huntsman and was about to rush upon him. The huntsman, however, once again whipped out his sword and cut off three more of its heads. The monster grew exhausted and sank down, and even so wanted to go for the huntsman again, but with his last ounce of strength the huntsman cut off its tail, and no longer able to fight, summoned his animals, who tore it to pieces.
When the fight was over, the huntsman unlocked the church and found the king’s daughter lying on the ground, for she had fainted from anxiety and fright while the fight had been going on. He carried her out, and when she again came to and opened her eyes, he showed her the dragon’s torn carcass and told her that she was now free. She was glad and said, “Now you will become my dear husband, for my father promised me in marriage to the man who killed the dragon.” She took off her coral necklace and divided it among the animals as a reward. The lion was given the gold clasp, and her handkerchief with her name on it she presented to the huntsman. The latter went and cut out the tongues from the dragon’s seven heads, wrapped them in the handkerchief, and put them carefully away.
When that was done, and because he was worn out and tired from the fire and the fight, he said to the maiden, “We’re both so worn out and tired that we’d better take a little nap.” She assented, and they lay down on the ground, and the huntsman said to the lion, “You’re to watch out that no one attacks us while we’re sleeping,” and both fell asleep. The lion lay down beside them to keep watch, but it, too, was tired from the fight, so it called the bear and said, “Lie down beside me. I must get a little sleep, and if anything comes, wake me up.” Then the bear lay down beside it, but it, too, was tired, and calling the wolf, said, “Lie down beside me. I’ve got to get a little sleep, and if anything comes, wake me up.” Then the wolf lay down beside it, but it, too, was tired and, calling the fox, said, “Lie down beside me. I’ve got to get a little sleep, and if anything comes, wake me up.” Then the fox lay down beside it, but it, too, was tired and calling the hare, said, “Lie down beside me. I’ve got to get a little sleep, and if anything comes, wake me up.” Then the hare sat down beside it, but the poor hare too was tired, had no one on whom it could call to keep watch, and fell asleep. Thus the king’s daughter, the huntsman, the lion, the bear, the wolf, the fox, and the hare were sleeping, and all slept soundly.
When, however, the marshal, who was supposed to look on from afar, didn’t see the dragon fly away with the maiden, and when everything up on the mountain became quiet, he took heart and climbed up. There lay the dragon on the ground torn to pieces and not far off the king’s daughter and a huntsman with his animals all fast asleep. Because he was a bad and wicked man, he took his sword and cut off the huntsman’s head, seized the maiden in his arms, and carried her down the mountain. She woke up and was frightened, but the marshal said, “You’re in my power and must say that it is I who killed the dragon.” “I can’t do that,” she replied, “for it was a huntsman and his animals who did it.” Then he drew his sword and threatened to kill her if she didn’t obey him and thus forced her to promise to do what he said. Then he brought her into the presence of the king, who was beside himself with joy on seeing his dear child alive. He’d thought she’d been torn to pieces by the monster. The marshal said to him, “I’ve killed the dragon and freed the maiden and the whole realm; accordingly I ask for her hand in marriage as was promised.” “Is he telling the truth?” the king asked the maiden. “Alas, yes,” she answered, “it must be true, of course. Nevertheless I stipulate that the wedding not be celebrated for a year and a day,” for she hoped to hear in the meantime some word from her dear huntsman.
Up on the dragon mountain the animals were still lying asleep beside their dead master. A big bumble-bee came and settled on the hare’s nose, but the hare brushed it away with its paw and went on sleeping. The bee came a second time, but the hare again brushed it off and went on sleeping. Then it came a third time and stung it on the nose so that it woke up. As soon as the hare was awake, it woke up the fox, and the fox woke up the wolf, the wolf the bear, and the bear the lion. When the lion woke up and saw that the maiden was gone and that its master was dead, it began to roar terribly, crying out, “Who did that? Bear, why didn’t you wake me up?” The bear asked the wolf, “Why didn’t you wake me up?” and the wolf asked the fox, “Why didn’t you wake me up?” and the fox asked the hare, “Why didn’t you wake me up?” The poor hare was the only one who was left with no answer and had to take the blame. They were about to fall upon it, but it begged them, saving “Don’t kill me! I’ll bring our master back to life. I know of a mountain where a certain root grows, and whoever takes it in his mouth will be cured of all diseases and healed of all wounds. The mountain is, however, a two-hundred-hours’ walk from here.” “You must run there and back in twenty-four hours,” said the lion, “and bring the root back with you.”
The hare raced off and in twenty-four hours was back with the root. The lion replaced the huntsman’s head, the hare put the root in his mouth, and at once everything grew together again and the heart beat and life returned. Then the huntsman woke up, was frightened on no longer seeing the maiden, and thought, “She probably went away while I was asleep in order to get rid of me.” In its great haste the lion had put its master’s head on backwards, though the latter didn’t notice it, since he was thinking sadly of the king’s daughter. It wasn’t till noon, when he wanted to eat something, that he saw that his head was on backwards, couldn’t understand it, and asked the animals what had happened to him in his sleep. Then the lion told him that they’d all fallen asleep from fatigue and on waking up had found him dead with his head cut off, that the hare had fetched the Root of Life, and that in its haste the lion had held his head the wrong way around but was anxious to correct its mistake. Then it tore off the huntsman’s head again, turned it around, and healed him again with the root.
The huntsman, however, was sad, wandered about in the world and had his animals dance before the public. Exactly a year later he chanced to return to the same city where he had freed the king’s daughter from the dragon, and this time the city was all hung with scarlet. He said to the innkeeper, “What does this mean? A year ago the city was hung with crepe. What is the point of the scarlet today?” “A year ago,” replied the innkeeper, “our king’s daughter was to be delivered up to the dragon, but the marshal fought it and killed it, and tomorrow their wedding is to be celebrated. That’s why the city at that time was hung with crepe as a sign of mourning and today with scarlet as a sign of rejoicing.”
Next day when the wedding was to take place, the huntsman said at noon to the innkeeper, “Innkeeper, do you really believe that today I shall eat bread from the king’s table with you here?” “Well,” said the innkeeper, “I’d be willing to bet a hundred gold pieces that that isn’t so.” The huntsman took the bet and staked a purse with the same number of gold pieces against the innkeeper, then called the hare and said, “Go, dear Hopper, and fetch me some of the bread which the king is eating.” The hare, being the least of the animals, couldn’t put the task off on anybody else but had to go itself. “My!” it thought, “if I hop through the streets all alone like that, the butchers’ dogs will be after me.” It happened as it thought. The dogs came after it and were on the point of picking a quarrel with it, but it hopped away as you’ve never seen the like and took refuge in a sentry box without the soldier noticing it. The dogs came and wanted to get it out, but the soldier was having no nonsense and struck them with the butt of his gun so that they ran away crying and howling. When the hare saw that the coast was clear, it hurried into the palace and right to the king’s daughter, sat down under her chair, and scratched her foot.
“Get away, will you!” she said, thinking it was her dog. The hare scratched her foot a second time, and again she said, “Get away, will you!” thinking it was her dog. But the hare wasn’t being put off and scratched a third time. Then she looked down and recognized the hare by its collar, and taking it in her lap, carried it to her room and said, “Dear hare, what do you want?” It replied, “My master, who killed the dragon, is here and sends me to beg for some bread such as the king eats.” Then she rejoiced, had the baker come, and ordered him to bring her a loaf of bread such as the king was accustomed to eat. “The baker must also carry it for me,” said the hare, “so that the butchers’ dogs don’t harm me.” The baker carried it for the hare as far as the door of the taproom; then the hare got up on its hind legs, took the loaf in its forepaws, and brought it to its master. “See, innkeeper,” said the huntsman, “the hundred gold pieces are mine.”
The innkeeper was amazed and the huntsman went on to say, “Yes, innkeeper, I’ve got the bread all right; now I want to eat some of the king’s roast, too.” The innkeeper said, “I’d like to see that!” but wouldn’t bet any more. The huntsman called the fox and said, “Dear fox, go fetch me a roast such as the king eats.” The red fox knew the tricks better than the hare; it hugged nooks and corners without a dog noticing it, sat down under the chair of the king’s daughter, and scratched her foot. She looked down, recognized it by its collar, took it with her to her room, and said, “Dear fox, what do you want?” It answered, “My master, who killed the dragon, is here and sends me to beg for a roast such as the king eats.” Then she sent for the chef, who had to prepare a roast such as the king was accustomed to eat and had to carry it for the fox as far as the inn door. There the fox took the bowl from him, with its tail first whisked off the flies which had settled on the roast, and then brought it to its master. “Look, innkeeper,” said the huntsman, “now there’s bread and meat, but I also want vegetables such as the king eats.”
Then he called the wolf and said, “Dear wolf, go fetch me vegetables such as the king eats.” Being afraid of no one, the wolf went straight into the palace and when it entered the room of the king’s daughter, tugged at her dress from behind, so that she had to look around. She recognized it by its collar, and taking it to her bed chamber, said, “Dear wolf, what do you want?” It answered, “My master, who killed the dragon, is here. I’m to beg for some vegetables such as the king eats.” She sent for the chef, and he had to prepare vegetables such as the king was accustomed to eat and carry them for the wolf as far as the inn door. Then the wolf took the bowl from him and brought it to its master. “See, innkeeper,” said the huntsman, “now I’ve got bread, meat, and vegetables, but I also want to eat some sweets such as the king eats.”
He called the bear and said, “Dear bear, of course you’re fond of sweets; go fetch me some sweets such as the king eats.” The bear trotted to the palace, and everybody got out of its way. When it got to the sentries, they pointed their guns at it and didn’t want to let it into the royal palace, but it stood on its hind legs and with its paws gave a few slaps right and left, so that the whole guard broke up. Then it went straight to the king’s daughter, got behind her and growled a little. She looked around and, recognizing the bear, had it come along with her to her room and said, “Dear bear, what do you want?” It answered, “My master, who killed the dragon, is here; I’m to beg for sweets such as the king eats.” Then she sent for the confectioner, who had to prepare sweets such as the king was accustomed to eat and carry them for the bear as far as the inn door. The bear first licked up such sugar plums as had rolled off, then stood up, took the bowl, and brought it to its master. “Look, innkeeper,” said the huntsman, “now I’ve got bread, meat, vegetables, and sweets, but I also want to drink wine such as the king drinks.”
He summoned his lion and said, “Dear lion, you like to drink yourself into your cups. Go fetch me wine such as the king drinks.” The lion stalked across the street, and the people ran away from it. When it got to the sentries, they wanted to bar the way, but it roared just once and all ran off. Now the lion went to the royal apartment and knocked on the door with its tail. The king’s daughter came out and was almost frightened at the lion but recognized it by the gold clasp from her necklace and had it come along with her to her room, saying, “Dear lion, what do you want?” It answered, “My master, who killed the dragon, is here; I am to beg for wine such as the king drinks.” She summoned the cupbearer, who was to give the lion wine such as the king drank. “I’ll go along,” said the lion, “and see that I get the right wine.”
It went down with the cupbearer and when they got to the cellar, the cupbearer was about to draw for it some ordinary wine such as the king’s servants drank, but the lion said, “Stop, let me first try the wine,” drew itself half a measure and downed it in one gulp. “No,” it said, “that’s not the right wine.” The cupbearer looked at it askance but proceeded to draw wine from another cask, which was for the king’s marshal. “Stop,” said the lion, “let me first try the wine,” drew itself half a measure and drank it. “That’s better, but still not the right wine.” Then the cupbearer got angry and said, “What can such a stupid creature pretend to know about wine?” but the lion gave him a box on the ear so that he fell down hard on the ground. When he’d picked himself up again, without a single word he led the lion into a little private cellar where the king’s wine was stored and of which no one ordinarily got a taste. The lion first drew itself half a measure and, trying the wine, said, “This is very likely the right kind,” and had the cupbearer fill six bottles. Then they went upstairs, but when the lion got out of the cellar and into the open, it staggered about and was a little drunk, and the cupbearer had to carry the wine for it as far as the inn door. Then the lion took the basket in its mouth and brought it to its master. “Look, innkeeper,” said the huntsman, “here I’ve got bread, meat, vegetables, sweets, and wine such as the king has. Now I’m going to dine with my animals,” sat down, ate and drank, and gave the hare, the fox, the wolf, the bear, and the lion their share of it, and was in high spirits, for he saw that the king’s daughter still loved him.
When he’d finished his meal, he said, “Innkeeper, I’ve eaten and drunk as the king eats and drinks; now I’m going to the king’s court and marry his daughter.” “How can that happen,” asked the innkeeper, “since she already has a bridegroom, and the wedding is being celebrated today?” Then the huntsman pulled out the handkerchief which the king’s daughter had given him on the dragon mountain and in which the monster’s seven tongues were wrapped and said, “What I’m holding in my hand will help me in this matter.” The innkeeper looked at the handkerchief and said, “Even if I believe everything else, I won’t believe that, and I’m willing to wager my house and home on it.” The huntsman took a purse with a thousand gold pieces, laid it on the table, and said, “I’ll stake this against your bet.”
At the royal board the king said to his daughter, “What did all the wild animals want which came to see you and went in and out of my palace?” “I mustn’t tell,” she answered, “but send for the animals’ master and you’ll be doing the right thing.” The king dispatched a servant to the inn and invited the stranger. The servant arrived just as the huntsman had made his bet with the innkeeper and was saying, “Look, innkeeper, now the king is sending a servant and inviting me there, but I shan’t go just yet,” and to the servant he said, “I beg the lord king to send me royal clothes, a coach and six, and servants to wait on me.” When the king heard the answer, he said to his daughter, “What shall I do?” She said, “Have him fetched the way he asks to be and you’ll be doing the right thing.” Then the king sent royal clothes, a coach and six, and servants to wait on him. When the huntsman saw them coming, he said, “See, innkeeper, now I’m being fetched in the manner I asked,” put on the royal clothes, took the handkerchief with the dragon’s tongues, and drove to the king. On seeing him coming, the king said to his daughter, “How shall I receive him?” “Go to meet him,” she answered, “and you’ll be doing the right thing.” The king went to meet him and led him upstairs, and his animals followed him.
He assigned him a place between himself and his daughter; being the bridegroom, the marshal was sitting on the opposite side but no longer recognized him. At that moment the dragon’s seven heads were displayed, and the king said, “The marshal cut off the dragon’s seven heads and therefore I’m giving him my daughter in marriage today.” Then the huntsman arose, opened the seven mouths, and said, “Where are the dragon’s seven tongues?” The marshal got frightened, turned pale, and didn’t know what answer to make, and finally in his anxiety said, “Dragons don’t have tongues.” “Liars oughtn’t to have any,” said the huntsman, “but the dragon’s tongues are the mark of the victor,” and undid the handkerchief, in which lay all seven of them. Then he put each tongue back in the mouth it belonged in and they fitted exactly. Thereupon he took the handkerchief, which was embroidered with the name of the king’s daughter, and showing it to the maiden, asked her to whom she’d given it. “To the man who killed the dragon,” she answered. He called his animals, took the necklace off each and from the lion the gold clasp and, showing it to the maiden, asked to whom it belonged. “The necklace and the gold clasp were mine,” she replied; “I divided it among the animals which helped conquer the dragon.” Then the huntsman said, “When, worn out from the fight, I was resting and sleeping, the marshal came and cut off my head, then carried off the king’s daughter, and pretended it was he who’d killed the dragon. That he’s been lying I prove by the tongues, the handkerchief, and the necklace.”
He then told how the animals had healed him by means of a marvelous root, that he’d wandered about with them for a whole year, and had finally come back here again, where from the innkeeper’s story he learned of the marshal’s deception. Then the king asked his daughter, “Is it true that this man killed the dragon?” and she answered, “Yes, it’s true. Now I may reveal the marshal’s infamy since it has come to light through no doing of mine, for he forced a promise of silence from me. That’s why I insisted that the wedding was not to be celebrated for a year and a day.” Then the king summoned twelve councilors to pass judgment on the marshal, and they sentenced him to be torn apart by four oxen. In this way the marshal was executed. The king gave his daughter to the huntsman and appointed him his lieutenant for the whole realm. The wedding was most joyfully celebrated, and the young king sent for his father and his foster father and heaped treasures upon them. Nor did he forget the innkeeper, but had him come and said, “See, innkeeper, I’ve married the king’s daughter, and your house and home are mine.” “Yes,” said the innkeeper, “that would be only fair,” but the young king said, “Mercy shall be shown: you shall keep your house and home, and I’ll make you a present of the thousand gold pieces in the bargain.”
Now the young king and young queen were in good spirits and lived happily together. He often went out hunting, because he enjoyed it, and the faithful animals had to go along with him. In the vicinity was a forest which people said was haunted and that once in it, it wasn’t easy to get out again.
The young king, however, felt a strong desire to hunt in it and gave the old king no peace until he let him. He rode out with a big retinue and on getting to the forest saw a snow-white hind there and said to his men, “Stop here till I come back; I want to chase that fine quarry.” He rode into the forest after it with only his animals with him. The retainers stopped and waited till evening, but he didn’t come back. Then they rode home and told the young queen the story, “The young king pursued a white hind into the haunted forest and hasn’t come back.” She was greatly worried about him. He had, however, kept riding after the beautiful quarry without being able to overtake it. Every time he thought it within gunshot, he’d all at once see it racing off again at a great distance. Finally it disappeared altogether. Now noticing that he’d got deep into the forest, he took his horn and blew it but received no answer, for his men couldn’t hear it. Since night was closing in and realizing that he couldn’t get home that day, he dismounted, made a fire by a tree, and planned to spend the night there. As he was sitting by the fire and his animals, too, had lain down beside him, he seemed to hear a human voice, looked about but could see nothing. Soon after he again heard a moaning sound as if up somewhere. He looked up and saw an old woman sitting in the tree; she kept moaning, “Brr! brr! brr! I’m so cold.” “Climb down,” he said, “and warm yourself if you’re cold,” but she said, “No, your animals will bite me.”
“They won’t hurt you, granny,” he said, “just come down.” She was, however, a witch and said, “I’m going to throw down a switch from the tree. If you’ll hit them on the back with it, they won’t harm me.” She threw down a switch, and he hit them with it; at once they lay still and were turned to stone. When the witch was safe from the animals, she jumped down and touched him, too, with the switch and changed him to stone. Then she laughed and dragged him and the animals into a ditch where there were already a number of such stones.
When the young king didn’t come back and didn’t come back, the queen’s worry and anxiety increased. Now it chanced that just at this time the other brother, who, when they separated, had gone east, returned to the kingdom. He’d been looking for employment and found none, had then wandered about here and there and had been having his animals dance in public. It occurred to him that he’d like to take a look at the knife they’d driven into the tree trunk in order to find out how his brother was getting along. When he got there, half his brother’s side was rusty, half still shiny. He got frightened and thought, “My brother must have met with some great misfortune, but maybe I can still save him, for half the knife is still shiny.”
He went west with his animals, and when he reached the city gate, the sentries met him and asked whether they were to announce him to his wife, saying that for some days the young queen had been in great anxiety about his absence and was afraid he’d perished in the haunted forest. The sentries were, of course, convinced that he was the young king in person, since he resembled him so and was, furthermore, followed by the wild animals. He realized that they were talking about his brother and thought, “I’d better pass myself off for him; in that way I can the more easily save him.” Accordingly, he had the sentries accompany him to the palace, where he was received with great joy. The young queen had no idea but that he was her husband and asked him why he’d stayed away so long. “I lost my way in the forest,” he answered, “and couldn’t find my way out any sooner.” In the evening he was taken to the royal bed, but he laid a double-edged sword between himself and the young queen. She didn’t know what that meant yet didn’t dare ask.
He stayed there a few days and meanwhile made every enquiry about the haunted forest. Finally he said, “I’ve got to hunt there again.” The king and the young queen tried to dissuade him, but he insisted and set out with a large retinue. When he reached the forest, it happened with him just as with his brother: he saw a white hind and said to his men, “Stay here and wait until I come back. I want to chase that fine quarry,” rode into the forest, and his animals ran after him. He was unable, however, to overtake the hind and got so deep in the forest that he had to spend the night there. When he’d made a fire, he heard a moaning sound above him, “Brr! brr! brr! how cold I am!” He looked up, and there sitting in the tree was the same witch. “If you’re cold,” he said, “then come down, granny, and warm yourself.” “No,” she answered, “your animals will bite me,” but he said, “No, they won’t hurt you.” Then she cried out, “I’m going to throw down a switch. If you’ll hit them with it, they won’t harm me.”
When the huntsman heard this, he didn’t trust the old woman and said, “I won’t hit my animals. Come straight down or I’ll fetch you.” Then she cried, “What do you really think you’ll do? You can’t hurt me.” “If you don’t come,” he answered, “I’ll shoot you down.” “Shoot away,” she said, “I’m not afraid of your bullets.” He raised his gun and took a shot at her, but the witch was proof against all lead bullets, uttered a piercing laugh, and cried, “You won’t hit me yet!” The huntsman knew what to do, tore three silver buttons off his coat, and loaded his gun with them. Against these her arts were in vain, and when he pulled the trigger, she at once pitched down with a shriek. Then he set his foot upon her and said, “Old witch, if you don’t immediately confess where my brother is, I’ll seize you with both hands and throw you into the fire.” She was very frightened and, begging for mercy, said, “He’s lying with his animals in a ditch and has been turned into stone.”
Then he forced her to go there with him and threatened her, saying, “You old monkey, now you bring my brother and every creature that’s lying here back to life, or else you land in the fire.” She took a switch and touched the stones. Thereupon his brother and the animals came to life again, also many others—merchants, craftsmen, and herdsmen; they got up, thanked him for their deliverance, and went home. When the twin brothers saw one another again, they kissed each other and rejoiced greatly. Then they seized the witch, bound her, and put her in the fire, and when she was burned up, the forest opened of itself and was bright and light, and the royal palace could be seen three hours away.
The two brothers went home together and on the road related to one another their adventures. When the younger said that he was the king’s lieutenant for the whole country, the other said, “I noticed that, for when I got to the city and was taken for you, I was shown every royal honor. The young queen took me for her husband, and I had to eat by her side and sleep in your bed.” When the other heard that, he got so jealous and angry that he drew his sword and cut off his brother’s head. When the latter lay dead and he saw his red blood flowing, he greatly regretted what he’d done. “My brother freed me,” he exclaimed, “and in return I’ve killed him,” and broke out into loud lamentations. Then his hare came and offered to fetch some of the Root of Life, raced off, and brought it just in time, and the dead man was revived and didn’t notice his wound.
Then they went on, and the younger said, “You look like me, you’re wearing royal clothes like myself, and the animals follow you as they do me. Let’s go in through opposite gates and thus reach the old king at the same time from two sides.” So they parted, and the sentries came to the old king at the same time from both gates, reporting that the young king with his animals had returned from the hunt. “It isn’t possible,” said the king; “the gates are an hour’s distance apart.” Meanwhile the two brothers came into the courtyard from two sides and both mounted the stairs. Then the king said to his daughter, “Tell me which is your husband; each looks like the other, and I can’t tell them apart.” Then she was in great distress and couldn’t tell. Finally she remembered the necklace she’d given the animals, looked, and found her gold clasp on one of the lions. Then she cried joyfully, “The man whom this lion is following is my true husband!” Then the young king laughed and said, “Yes, that’s the right one,” and they sat down together at table, ate and drank and were merry. In the evening when the young king went to bed, his wife said, “Why did you always put a double-edged sword in our bed these last nights? I thought you were intending to kill me.” Then he realized how loyal his brother had been.
