Ancient Legends. Tatiana Edel

now, and their suitors were no longer in danger.

      It is good when birds sing, when the music of the wind, waterfalls, and life itself can be heard! And it is good that there are brave heroes on this earth!

      The Life-Giving Spring

      “Listen, listen! And those who hear, pass the message on! Disaster has come upon our land – rivers have dried up, and the seas have shrunk. Not a single drop of rain has fallen from the clouds for six whole months. The world is ruled by a terrible old crone, and her name is Drought. The rulers of many kingdoms have gathered for counsel, and now we proclaim their decree: Whoever finds a well will be rewarded with a grand palace, two herds of buffalo, pastures, and gold equal to their own weight!”

      The royal heralds shouted the decree and rode off to spread the news. But the people, weakened by hunger and thirst to the point where they could barely walk, only shook their heads. If anyone knew where to find a spring, wouldn’t they have already done so?

      In an Indian village, there lived a young man named Sadhir. Every day, he wandered beyond the village, pickaxe in hand, searching the fields and meadows, hoping to find a stream with life-giving water.

      One day, he overheard the elders saying that a snake charmer could summon the rain. He asked if they knew where such a man lived. “Beyond the mountain pass,” they told him.

      And so, despite his exhaustion, the young man set out to seek the charmer’s help. His journey was slow – he was weak, barely able to walk. He would rest for a while, then continue on. By the second day, he finally reached his destination.

      He was shown the charmer’s house. Knocking at the door, he heard the sound of music. Entering the courtyard, he saw an old man in a turban playing a flute. Before him, a cobra had risen from a basket, swaying to the rhythm. The charmer was summoning the rain.

      But suddenly, the snake collapsed lifelessly before their eyes. Women wailed in grief, and men wept. “Woe to us! Woe!”

      “Let me help you find another snake,” Sadhir offered. “Can you train a new one quickly?”

      “No, dear traveler,” the charmer sighed. “It is impossible. The snakes have fled far away from the Drought. And even if we were to find one, it would not survive even a single strike.”

      “Why would you strike it?” the young man asked in surprise.

      “Snakes are clever creatures. If you hit it with the flute once, it will learn to dodge the second blow. That is how we train them. The charmer waves the flute from side to side, the snake evades, and people think it is dancing. That is the secret.”

      “Be patient,” Sadhir said. “I will find water.” And he hurried away.

      Once more, he walked the land, digging and searching, hoping to find moisture beneath the earth. Along the way, he saw people desperately trying to summon rain. In one village, they sacrificed a black ram as an offering. In another, men lashed themselves with branches until they bled.

      An old man told him of a belief in Slavic lands – that rain clouds were stolen by wicked toads. To stop them, people would capture a toad, place it under a clay pot, and beat the pot with sticks, chanting: “You wretched, slimy beast! Why have you done this evil? Release the rain clouds at once!” Frightened, the toad would supposedly release the rain. Others believed that destroying a raven’s nest could stop a drought.

      But the bony old Drought only laughed from the heavens, locking the rain clouds away. Sadhir thought deeply and stopped believing in omens. Instead, he devoted himself even more to his search for water, pouring all his strength into the task.

      One day, he met a beautiful young woman who was also searching for a well. They rejoiced in finding one another, and together, their journey felt lighter. At last, Fortune recognized their determination and opened her arms to them.

      “Look,” Sadhir exclaimed. “That raven is pecking at the ground and scratching it like a hen. It must sense water nearby!”

      “Let’s help it,” the girl cried, and together, they began to dig. Before long, the soil grew damp – they had found water. The moment the first well appeared, the wicked Drought lost her power, and from the heavens, long-awaited rain poured down upon the earth.

      For three days and three nights, the rain fell, quenching the thirst of the land and its people. And as promised, the king rewarded the young man and woman with a palace, pastures, buffalo, and mountains of gold. But more than wealth, they found love, and so they married and lived happily in their grand home.

      Such is the power of unwavering faith and the efforts of two hearts – together, they can bring happiness to all of humanity.

      The Flying Carpet

      The endless hills stretched wide. The meadow grass lay like a soft carpet. Mountain rivers rang with crystal-clear water. In those lands stood a city. Many people lived there, and there was enough space and work for all. The city was sheltered by tall mountains, and there had been no wars in those parts for so long that even the elders could not remember one. Though guards were posted every night, few truly worried. Sometimes, the city watchman would even drift into sleep, especially in the early morning hours when slumber was the sweetest.

      On one such quiet morning, when the whole city slept, the young guard dozed off, feeling no danger.

      And at that moment, across the clear sky, a flying carpet appeared. Upon it rode a wicked sorcerer named Karidur. He surveyed the hills, searching for a place to land. He despised people, oh, how he hated them! They never left him in peace, so he did all he could to harm them. Now he had decided to find himself apprentices. That was why he roamed the skies, looking and choosing. He was growing old, and the world was too vast for him to manage alone.

      Karidur spotted a mighty oak, taller than any other, its massive branches reaching the sky, its roots twisting like serpents above the ground. He landed upon the very top of the tree, hidden within its thick canopy, unseen from below. Resting for an hour, he then transformed – under the bright morning sun – into a stooped old traveler, appearing as if he had come from far away, weary from his journey. He sat upon a stone to rest, sipped some water, and gazed at the city as if admiring it.

      Soon, a group of boys rushed into the streets, playing a lively game of tag. One of them, a quick and clever lad named Gridya, was so fast that no one could catch him.

      Ah, thought Karidur, this is the one I need.

      Muttering an incantation under his breath, he disrupted the game, and then called the boy over.

      .

      “Oh, son, I have grown so old and weak. But you – so strong, so full of life! Will you help me reach that mighty oak? From there, I can manage on my own.”

      Gridya had no wish to go anywhere, but his feet carried him forward against his will. He marveled at this but did not think much of it. Helping an old man was no great trouble. But as soon as they reached the tree, both of them vanished without a trace, as if they had never been there at all.

      The other children gasped in horror and ran home to deliver the terrible news. Gridya’s mother screamed, and his father wept – where could they search, where could they find their son?

      But Karidur had already flown to his gloomy fortress. His gray, menacing palace stood atop the highest blue mountain, where even the wind rarely reached. Wrapped in eternal mist, shrouded in half-light, it filled the earth below with dread.

      At first, Gridya had enjoyed the flight on the magic carpet. But once they landed, all joy vanished. The palace was wretched – dark halls, bats flitting through the shadows. Karidur rubbed his hands together in glee, expecting praise from his guest. But Gridya was