Winter's Tales Page 5

  And in the winter, when the storms rage round the mountains, and they hear the shrieks of Caribay trying to find her way home, the five eagles shake and settle. Then their white feathery snowflakes fall, covering all the lower mountains in the Andes.

  And people agree that the mountains and the snowflakes are far more beautiful than Caribay ever was.

  The Hero with Hairy Trousers

  Norse legend

  Almost nine hundred years ago a shipload of Vikings sheltered from a snowstorm in a stone-age tomb called Maes Howe in Orkney. As they waited, surrounded by ancient bones, rather than telling ghost stories, they carved graffiti on the walls. Amongst the runes about beautiful women and hidden treasure, one of the carvings is about a Viking hero called Ragnar Lodbrok.

  Ragnar Lodbrok sounds like a very heroic name, until you realise that Lodbrok means ‘hairy trousers’. There really was a Viking hero called Ragnar Hairy Trousers. And this is how he got his name…

  Long ago, a Viking king was riding through a forest when he saw something glitter. Vikings love treasure, especially other people’s treasure, so he jumped down from his horse. But the glitter wasn’t coins or jewels – it was an animal. A little shiny animal, with sharp golden scales, big purple eyes, tiny fluttering wings and a long snaky tail. And when it sneezed, it sneezed sparks.

  It was a baby dragon.

  It was a very cute baby dragon. So the Viking king picked it up, balanced it on the front of his saddle and took it home to his castle as a gift for his daughter Thora.

  Thora was delighted with her pet dragon. She cuddled it and stroked it and fed it herself every morning.

  At first, because the dragon only had tiny teeth and little jaws, she fed the dragon ripped-up raw rabbit. (Thora was a Viking princess and she didn’t mind a bit of blood on her hands.)

  Soon the dragon was bigger, and Thora didn’t have to rip up the rabbit. She just threw whole rabbits into the air for the dragon to catch and eat.

  When rabbit wasn’t enough to fill the dragon’s growing belly, Thora started to feed the dragon chopped-up raw sheep. (Thora was a Viking princess, and she was quite handy with an axe.)

  Soon the dragon was so huge that Thora didn’t need to chop up the sheep. All she had to do was peel off the sheepskin every morning. (Dragons don’t like getting wool caught between their teeth.)

  When sheep weren’t filling the dragon’s belly either, Thora decided it was time to go to market and buy a herd of cows.

  But on the day she left the castle to buy the cows, no-one else was brave enough to feed the dragon breakfast. So the hungry dragon ate one of the castle gardeners.

  The king wasn’t pleased. He decided to banish the dragon to the far northern wastes. He raised his arm, he pointed to the northern wastes and he shouted at the dragon.

  But dragons don’t usually do what they’re told, and this dragon didn’t want to go to the far northern wastes, because there wasn’t enough food there. So the dragon flew to the top of the highest mountain in the land and made a lair.

  Then the dragon swooped down every day to grab farmers from the fields or fishermen from the fjords, and take them up to his lair to eat them.

  Soon, no-one wanted to farm or to fish, for fear of being eaten by the dragon.

  Eventually, with his people hungry and afraid, the king sent out a proclamation: “Anyone who can rid us of this dragon will win half the kingdom and the right to ask Princess Thora for her hand in marriage.”

  Half a kingdom is a prize worth having and Thora, when she washed her hands, was a lovely princess. So lots of heroes arrived at the castle, all equipped with horses, armour and lances.

  They rode one by one to the mountain, left their horses at the foot, and climbed up, with their shiny metal armour and their long sharp lances.

  When the first hero climbed to the top, the dragon saw him coming. The dragon opened his huge jaws, and the dragon breathed fire…

  Inside his fancy shiny metal armour, the hero baked, like bread in a bread tin. And when the hero was all nice and crunchy, the dragon ate him.

  So the next hero started to climb up the mountain, with his shiny metal armour and his long sharp lance. The dragon saw him coming, and the dragon breathed fire…

  Inside his heavy metal armour, the hero roasted, like a parsnip in a roasting tin. And when the hero was caramelised and soft in the middle, the dragon ate him.

  After a few more baked, roasted, grilled and fried heroes, suddenly there weren’t so many heroes keen to climb the mountain. In fact, there was now only one person left who was prepared to climb the mountain and take on the dragon.

  His name was Ragnar, and he wasn’t a hero or a prince or a warrior. He was a kitchen boy in the king’s castle. But he had liked Thora for a long time, and he wanted the chance to ask her to be his wife.

  Ragnar didn’t have a horse or a lance or any armour. All he had was a key to the kitchen.

  So one winter evening, he crept into the kitchen and he found a broom handle, some string and a carving knife. Then he crept up to Thora’s chambers, and he asked her for three of the sheepskins she had peeled from the dragon’s breakfasts. Thora gave Ragnar the best sheepskins she had, and she gave him a smile too.

  Then Ragnar walked through the long winter night, all the way to the mountain, and he climbed the mountain in the dark. When he was near the summit, he sat down by a mountain stream and he started to cut the sheepskin with the knife.

  He cut himself a pair of trousers, a jacket and a big hat with flaps. He pulled the clothes on, woolly side out, so he was wearing fleecy fluffy sheepskin all over.

  He tied the knife to the end of the broom handle to make a spear, and he put the spear down by the side of the stream.

  Next, Ragnar lay down in the stream, with only his nose poking out, and he stayed in the water until the fleece was soaking wet.

  Then he climbed out, picked up the spear and stood very still by the stream.

  And as his breath froze in front of him in the cold winter air, so the water in the fleece froze too.

  Ragnar had made himself armour of ice.

  As the sun rose, he climbed to the summit of the mountain.

  In the light of the sunrise, the dragon saw him coming and the dragon breathed fire.

  But Ragnar’s armour of ice kept him cool as he walked towards the dragon.

  So the dragon breathed fire again. Hotter, redder fire.

  And Ragnar’s armour steamed a little, but inside the icy fleece, he stayed cool.

  The dragon breathed fire again. His hottest, reddest, fiercest fire.

  And clouds of steam billowed off the armour of ice as Ragnar walked forward. But inside the armour of ice, Ragnar stayed cool.

  The clouds of steam blinded the dragon, and while it couldn’t see, Ragnar took one last step forward and drove his spear into the dragon’s heart.

  The dragon fell down dead.

  Ragnar used the knife to cut off the dragon’s head.

  Then he walked back to the castle carrying the head to prove he had killed the dragon. But as he walked back, the rising sun warmed the air, and Ragnar’s icy armour finally melted. So he was squelching at every step by the time he reached the castle.

  When he walked into the Great Hall, with the dragon’s head dripping blood and his sheepskin armour dripping water, he won himself a new Viking hero name.

  Ragnar Lodbrok, Ragnar Hairy Trousers.

  He also won half the kingdom and the right to ask Thora to marry him. Thora must have forgiven him for killing her pet dragon, because she smiled and said yes.

  Ragnar and Thora lived happily ever after and had lots of children. And when those children asked for pets of their own, Ragnar and Thora didn’t give them baby dragons. They gave them puppies instead.

  Where I found these Winter’s Tales

  I didn’t invent these Winter’s Tales – each of these stories has been told, somewhere in the world, for a very long time. But I do change stories as I te
ll them, so they make sense in my head and sound real in my voice. The stories in this collection are the versions I tell out loud, rather than exact copies of the stories that inspired me. If you share these stories, please feel free to change them too, and make them into your stories!

  When I retell stories in books, I like to let readers know where I found the versions that inspired me, so you can go back and find out more about them yourself, and also because every storyteller owes a nod of thanks to the storyteller or writer who first showed them the way into a story…

  The Seeds of Winter

  Greek myth

  This is probably the best known myth about the seasons, and I’ve known Persephone’s story since I was a child, so I have no idea where I first read it. However, the best version I ever heard, which inspired my own adaptation, was told by a very talented first year pupil at Denny High School near Falkirk. So thanks for the flowers, Sam Edgar!

  The Snow Bear and the Trolls

  Norwegian folktale

  I first found this story in Scandinavian Stories by Margaret Sperry (published by JM Dent, 1971) and loved it immediately. I still changed it as I told it, though. My snow bear doesn’t talk, for example, and my trolls might be a bit smellier…

  The Prince of Wolves

  Tsimshian folktale, Canada

  I found this story a few years ago while researching a novel about shape-changing wolves in a Scottish forest. It’s from a collection called Wolf Tales: Native American Children’s Stories, edited by Mary Powell (Ancient City Press, 1992) and I’ve always liked it because it helps to balance all those big bad wolf stories out there!

  The Ibis Brings Spring

  Yamana myth, Tierra del Fuego

  This is a combined adaptation of two short myths from Folk Literature of the Yamana Indians, edited by Johannes Wilbert (University of California Press, 1977). I was delighted to find these winter stories told by the people who live nearer than anyone else to the Antarctic and the South Pole.

  The Hag of Winter

  Scottish myth

  I have heard and read dozens of different versions of this ancient Celtic story about the Cailleach (which is Gaelic for old woman) so the version I tell is a patchwork of many others. I must admit that I’ve changed this story more than usual – I was always a bit annoyed by Brid just waiting for Angus to save her, so I came up with a way for her to signal Angus, and also let her fight the storm hags. If you want to read a very traditional version, try Wonder Tales from Scottish Myth and Legend, by Donald Alexander McKenzie (Black and Sons, 1917).

  The Spiders’ Christmas

  Ukrainian folktale

  I first met these cheerful little spiders in the Lion Storyteller Christmas Book by Bob Hartmann (Lion Publishing, 2000) and was delighted to discover, after a little research, the Ukrainian (and German) tradition of spider decorations on Christmas trees.

  Ice and Fire

  Maori legend

  This is the only story I tell about someone’s first experience of winter weather, and I love sharing it with children because when Ngatoro is climbing the mountain, someone always whispers, “It’s snow!” long before I say what the white stuff is. I first found the story in Myths and Legends of Maoriland by AW Reed (Allen and Unwin, 1946) and adapted it after I’d done some research into legends about the Maoris’ arrival in Aotearoa.

  The Hungry Polar Bear

  Canadian folktale

  This was one of the first traditional tales I ever told out loud, having found a version of it by Alison Hedger in Children’s Christmas Songbook (Chester Music, 2003) and then added details of my own. So this was my first winter story and my first bear story!

  Missing Winter

  Canaanite myth, Eastern Mediterranean

  After telling so many stories about people (and gods) who want winter to go away and spring or summer to return, I was fascinated by this myth showing the opposite, because in hot countries winter is the fertile time and summer is the barren time. Baal’s story was discovered on ancient tablets in the ruined city of Ugarit in Syria, and translated in Canaanite Myths and Legends by JCL Gibson (T&T Clark, Edinburgh, 1978).

  The Fox’s Footprints

  Cree Folktale, Canada

  This is a Cree Windigo tale, which I found in Howard Norman’s Where the Chill Came From (North Point Press, 1982). I admit that my version is simplified and somewhat altered, though I hope it retains the mystery and beauty of the tribal tale.

  Ukko and the Bear

  Lapp legend, Finland

  I’ve known and told this story for years, but didn’t track down a written source until I saw one version of it (not exactly the one I know and tell) in Scandinavian Stories, by Margaret Sperry (published by JM Dent, 1971). I still think it would have been easier if Ukko had just changed into a god before he crossed the river.

  The Last Sun

  Chinese myth

  I first read this story in The Return of The Light by Carolyn McVickar Edwards (Marlowe and Company, 2000) then found a few more details in the Handbook of Chinese Mythology by Lihui Yang and Deming An (Oxford University Press, 2008) and added a few fireworks when I adapted it to tell myself.

  Blind Winter

  Viking myth

  I first came across this story in Roger Lancelyn Green’s wonderful Saga of Asgard (Penguin Books, 1960). However, because I love Viking stories, I’ve probably read dozens of other versions since, all of which may have contributed to my telling of this wonderful and chilling story.

  Five White Eagles

  Venezuelan legend

  I am very grateful to my mum, who translated this story for me from the Spanish language version in Kuai-Mare, Mitos Aborigenes de Venezuela by Maria Manuela de Cora (Editorial Oceanida, 1957) and will probably be quite surprised when she discovers the changes I’ve made when I tell the story in my voice!

  The Hero with Hairy Trousers

  Norse legend

  I searched out this story after seeing the runes about Ragnar Lodbrok at Maes Howe in Orkney. I eventually found it in one of my brother’s old storybooks: A Book of Dragons by Roger Lancelyn Green (Hamish Hamilton 1970). It’s my favourite dragon story, and I have probably told it in hundreds of schools. When I tell Ragnar’s story to real children, I throw ripped up rabbits and raw sheep around the room. (Imaginary rabbits and sheep, of course, because I’m not a Viking princess…)

  Lari Don’s enthralling collection of folk tales about heroines from around the world. These girls use cleverness, courage or kindness to win the day, beating greedy giants, shapeshifting demons and seven-headed dragons.

  £12.99 hardback 978-1-4729-0306-8

  BLOOMSBURY

  A stunning collection of folk tales and legends from all over Europe. Magical, farcical, tender or terrifying, this selection of often unusual and little known stories from each state of the European Union is a joy to read.

  £12.99 hardback 978-1-4081-8007-5

  BLOOMSBURY

  This electronic edition published in October 2013 by Bloomsbury Publishing

  Copyright © 2013 A&C Black

  Text copyright © 2013 Lari Don

  Illustrations copyright © 2013 Francesca Greenwood

  First published 2013 by A & C Black

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  eISBN: 978-1-4081-9691-5

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