Selected Tales of the Brothers Grimm

THE SINGING BONE





Once upon a time a great lamentation arose in a certain land because of a wild boar that tore up the fields of the farmers, killed their livestock, and ripped open people’s bodies with its tusks. The king offered a great reward to anyone who could rid the land of this calamity, but the beast was so big and strong that nobody dared to approach the forest in which it dwelled. Finally the king let it be known that whosoever captured or killed the wild boar would have the hand of his only daughter in marriage.

Now in this land there lived two brothers, sons of a poor man, who came to the king and were willing to take on this hazardous task. The elder brother, who was crafty and shrewd, offered his help out of pride; the younger brother, who was innocent and simple, did so out of the goodness of his heart. The king said, “So that you are all the more certain to find the beast, you will enter the forest from opposite sides.” The elder one entered from where the sun sets and the younger one from where it rises. And after the younger brother had been walking a short while, a little man came up to him, holding a black spear in his hand, and said, “This spear I give you because your heart is pure and good. With it you may confidently set upon the wild boar, and it will do you no harm.” The boy thanked the little man, hoisted the spear onto his shoulder, and continued fearlessly on his way. It wasn’t long before he spotted the beast as it came charging at him. He held out the spear, and in the creature’s rage it clove its heart in two. Then he lifted the monster onto his shoulder and carried it homeward, wanting to bring it to the king.

When he emerged at the forest’s far side, he came upon an inn where people went to make merry with dance and wine. His elder brother had gone in, having thought to himself that the boar could wait and that before setting out he would first fortify himself with a glass or two. When he spotted his younger brother emerging from the forest with the prized carcass on his back, his envious and vindictive heart would not let him be. He called to him, “Do come in, dear brother, rest your weary bones and have a glass to refresh yourself.” The younger brother, who suspected no evil intent, went in and told his brother of the kind little man who gave him the spear with which he killed the boar. The elder brother wined and dined him until evening, then the two set out together. But when in the dark of night they came to a bridge over a brook, the elder brother let the younger one go ahead, and halfway across the water struck him from behind so that he tumbled down dead. He buried him beneath the bridge, then took the boar and brought it to the king, pretending that it was he who killed it, whereupon, as promised, he received the king’s daughter’s hand in marriage. And when the younger brother failed to return, he said, “The boar must have mauled him,” and everyone believed him.

But since nothing can remain hidden from the eyes of God, this dark deed, too, had to be revealed. Many years later a shepherd drove his herd across the bridge and spotted a snow-white bone lying below in the sand. He thought to himself, That would make a good mouthpiece. So he climbed down, picked it up, and carved himself a mouthpiece for his horn. But when he blew on it for the first time, to the shepherd’s great surprise, the little bone started singing on its own:

“Oh, dear little shepherd boy,

The bone you blow on knows no joy,

My brother slayed me.

Beneath the bride he laid me

All for the wild boar’s hide

To make the king’s daughter his bride.”

“What a wondrous little horn is this,” said the shepherd, “an instrument that sings by itself. I must bring it to the king.” And when he brought it before the king, the little horn started singing its song again. The king immediately understood its meaning, had the ground dug up under the bridge, and all the slaughtered brother’s bones were unearthed. The evil brother could not deny the deed, was sewn up in a bag, and drowned, but the bones of the murdered one were laid to rest in the churchyard in a lovely grave.





THE TALE OF THE JUNIPER TREE





It happened long, long ago, more than two thousand years gone by. There was a rich man who had a beautiful and God-fearing wife, and they loved each other very much. But they had no children, much as they badly wanted them. And the woman prayed so hard day and night, but still she had no children, not a one.

Now in the yard, in front of their house, stood a juniper tree. One day in winter the woman stood beneath it, peeling herself an apple, and as she peeled she cut her finger, and the blood dripped into the snow. “Oh,” said the woman with a deep sigh when she saw the blood in the snow, and suddenly felt overwhelmed with sadness, “if only I had a child as red as blood and as white as snow.” Having let these words spill from her lips, she felt a great happiness, and she was certain it would come to pass.