Germanic

The Different Dialects of Germanic

A Walpurgisnacht Song

1. Es wohnte ein Fiedler zu Frankfurt am Main, der kehrte von lustiger Zeche heim,
und er trat auf den Markt, was sah er dort? Was sah er dort?

Der schönen Frauen schmausten gar viel an dem Ort.

2. "Du buckliger Fiedler, nun fiedle uns auf! Wir wollen dir zahlen des Lohnes vollauf;
einen Tanz behende |: gezeiget! :|
Walpurgisnacht wird heute gefei'rt." 

3. Der Geiger strich einen fröhlichen Tanz, die Frauen tanzten den Reigenkranz,
und die Erste sprach: |: "Mein lieber Sohn, :|
du geigst so frisch, hab' nun deinen Lohn!" 

4. Sie griff ihm behende unter's Wammes sofort, und nahm ihm den Höcker von dem Rücken fort:
"So gehe nun hin, |: mein schlanker Gesell, :|
dich nimmt nun eine jede Jungfrau zur Stell'."

5. Der Fiedler schlank in die Herberg' trat, da wartet sein buckliger Kamerad.
Den fasste der Neid: |: "Der Hexen Gunst :|
erwerb ich mir auch durch meine Kunst!"

6. Er trat auf den Marktplatz, und es tanzte die Schar im Mondlicht immer noch wunderbar:
"Ich geige euch gern, |: wenn für den Dienst :|
ihr zahlen wollet mit gleicher Gunst."

7. Er geigte falsch zu der Frauen Tanz, verstörte den holden Reigen ganz.
Die Erste sprach: |: "Mein lieber Sohn, :|
so wie du geigtest, so wird dein Lohn."

8. Sie nestelt ihm vorne am Wammes sofort und verbarg des Gesellen Höcker dort.
Und nun ging´s husch, |: es wirbelt umher, :|
der weite Marktplatz war still und leer.

9. Der neidische Fiedler tappte gar lang, er dachte, er käme nach Hause gar schlank.
Doch wie lachten sie, |: wie kam er in Zorn: :|
Er fand sich behöckert - so hinten als vorn.

Who Were the Germanic Peoples?

Rather like the Celts, the term “Germanic” refers to a conglomeration of different genealogies sharing similar languages and lifestyle. Yet in many places on the continent where these two overlapped for a considerable period, it’s scarcely possible to tell them apart, hence frequent use of the term “Celto-Germanic”.

This quote from Wiki:

The Germanic peoples (also called Teutonic in older literature) are a historical ethno-linguistic group, originating in Northern Europe and identified by their use of the Indo-European Germanic languages, which diversified out of Common Germanic in the course of the Pre-Roman Iron Age. The descendants of these peoples became, and in many areas contributed to, the ethnic groups of North Western Europe:the Germans, English, Dutch, Swedish, Flemish, Danish, Norwegians and Icelanders among others.

Migrating Germanic peoples spread throughout Europe in Late Antiquity (300-600) and the Early Middle Ages. Germanic languages became dominant along the Roman borders (Austria, Germany, Netherlands, Belgium Germany,Netherlands, Belgium and England), but in the rest of the (western) Roman provinces, the Germanic immigrants adopted Latin (Romance) dialects. Furthermore, all Germanic peoples were eventually Christianized to varying extents. Europe’s Germanic peoples, such as the Franks, Saxons, Vandals, Angles, Lombards, Burgundians and Goths, transformed the Roman Empire into Medieval Europe. Today Germanic Languages are spoken throughout much of the world, represented principally by English, German, Dutch and Scandinavian.

From Eupedia:

The Germanic branch

The first expansion of R1a took place with the westward propagation of the Corded Ware (or Battle Axe) culture (3200-1800 BCE) from the Yamna homeland. This was the first wave of R1a into Europe, one that is responsible for the presence of this haplogroup in Scandinavia, Germany, and a portion of the R1a in the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Hungary or Poland. The high prevalence of R1a in Balto-Slavic countries nowadays is not only due to the Corded Ware expansion, but also to a long succession of later migrations from Russia, the last of which took place from the 5th to the 1th century CE. The Germanic branch of Indo-European languages probably evolved from a merger of Corded-Ware R1a (Proto-Slavic language) and the later arrival of Italo-Celtic R1b from Central Europe. This is supported by the fact that Germanic people are hybrid R1a-R1b, that these two haplogroups came via separate routes at different times, and also on the linguistics of Proto-Germanic language, which shares similarities with Italic, Celtic and Slavic languages. The Corded Ware R1a people would have mixed with the pre-Germanic I1 aborigines to create the Nordic Bronze Age (1800-500 BCE). R1b presumably reached Scandinavia later as a northward migration from the contemporary Hallstatt Culture (1200-500 BCE). The first genuine Germanic tongue has been estimated by linguists to have come into existence around (or after) 500 BCE. This would confirm that it emerged as a blend of Hallstatt Proto-Celtic and the Corded-Ware Proto-Slavic. The uniqueness of some of the Germanic vocabulary points at borrowing from native pre-Indo-European languages. Celtic language itself is known to have borrowed from Afro-Asiatic languages spoken by Near-Eastern immigrants to Central Europe. The fact that present-day Scandinavia is composed of roughly 40% of I1, 20% of R1a and 40% of R1b reinforces the idea that Germanic ethnicity and language had acquired a tri-hybrid character by the Iron Age.

http://www.duerinck.com/tribes1.html

The Merseburg Incantations

Are allegedly two ancient Germanic charms written in a 9th century Carolingian (Old High German) manuscript from Fulda. This document was discovered by Georg Waitz in the library of the Merseburg Cathedral in 1841 and published for the first time by Jacob Grimm in 1842.

Eiris sazun idisi
sazun hera duoder.
suma hapt heptidun,
suma heri lezidun,
suma clubodun
umbi cuoniouuidi:
insprinc haptbandun,
inuar uigandun.

Once sat women,
They sat here, then there.
Some fastened bonds,
Some impeded an army,
Some unraveled fetters:
Escape the bonds,
flee the enemy!

Phol ende uuodan uuorun zi holza.
du uuart demo balderes uolon sin uuoz birenkit.
thu biguol en sinthgunt, sunna era suister;
thu biguol en friia, uolla era suister;
thu biguol en uuodan, so he uuola conda:
sose benrenki, sose bluotrenki,
sose lidirenki:
ben zi bena, bluot zi bluoda,
lid zi geliden, sose gelimida sin.

Phol and Wodan were riding to the woods,
and the foot of Balder's foal was sprained
So Sinthgunt, Sunna's sister, conjured it.
and Frija, Volla's sister, conjured it.
and Wodan conjured it, as well he could:
Like bone-sprain, so blood-sprain,
so joint-sprain:
Bone to bone, blood to blood,
joints to joints, so may they be glued.

While it is assumed to be the earliest written record of a Germanic magical verse, the rarity of such early manuscripts is largely due to the simple fact that tribal cultures in continental Europe adhered exclusively to oral traditions. Runes and other petroglypic markings were still coveted as secret symbols of magical empowerment, at least until the Saxon and Norse invasions introduced more complex runic systems evolved for the sake of written language. In fact, written language was never considered a necessity until the Romans turned up. While some Celtic pantheons readily adapted to commercial influences of Roman culture, this was not the case for the Germans as they were more a transient folk of herders and hunters at the time- and why German remains a non-latin language. They simply could not be integrated, given their two entirely different perspectives of existence and self realization. For instance the word "Geist" in the German sense not only refers to a ghost, spirit, or soul spirit, but a conscious realization and communication of self and its will ability to design and manifest. In that sense "Zeitgeist" refers to the collective spirit and mentality of a particular period in time. In this it can be seen the German mind generally inclined to perceive existence in terms of spiritual relativity. In essence, spirit is not described as anything immaterial, rather, understood as a life force that generates the construct, the magical power to realize itself in the physical. Thus in a shamanic sense, the journey to the nine worlds represented a journey in conscious realization on so many levels, whereas Ragnarok illustrates that all things are subject to change in order to maintain continuity. As we say in Germany, "that which rests, rusts".

Now having given you some idea of the Germanic mentality, imagine the time Carolingian monks had trying to convert these people. It's one thing to conquer a foreign culture, but another to even get them to understand what you're talking about. Schools and churches only permitted the use of Latin, and a higher education in early Christian society inclined to be reserved either for orphans raised in monasteries, or the sons of rich nobles unfit for battle or marriage for that matter. In the feudal system, serfs were seldom allowed this "privilege" for obvious reasons.Aside from having to farm to earn their keep, they also had to defend the kingdom from rivals when called upon. Especially this left the monks with a problem of communicating their theology according to scriptural standards. Thus they made use of local folkloric allegory in the form of illustration, adapting folk heros and deities into the more devoted role of "patron saints", each represented by a particular animal familiar playing a part in the allegory. Here is a typical example:

Nonetheless, it didn't keep the common folk from carrying on their oral traditions, as much of their allegorical verse retained everything from herbal pharmacopoeia and agrarian wisdoms of planting, harvesting and weather reading, down to the treatment and use of materials for building- much of which was inseparable from their mythical associations. In that respect, Roman Catholicism ended up having to absorb it, if it was to be in anyway practical to the locals.

In the Merseburg Incantations, however, the second verse reads more like a Frankish reinterpretation of a Saxon galdrdict to include the patrons of other tribes. In academic circles, however, the controversy is over the meaning of "Phol". No deity by that name could be found in any of the oral traditions. Throughout the Teutoberger Forest in Westphalia there are countless remnants of neolithic grave chambers suggesting it was once central to an indigenous megalithic culture. Amongst these, in the vicinity of Bippen are the obscure remnants of a stone circle in what was once an open heath. This circle is one with a phallic center stone named the "Pfaohlenstein". This name has misled numerous academics to assume some association to the "Phol" in the Merseberg Incantations. There was even a bronze plaque mounted there on that assumption. While the Teutoberger Forest is also well known as an important heritage site of the Teutonic peoples to this day, the Pfaohlenstein reference is more apt to define "Phallic Stone" than some forgotten local deity. The fact is the west Germanic peoples never even had a fertility god named "Baldr". This is more likely to have been Frey, and this is where the problem began in course of Carolingian conversion. Namely trying to put Frey into a context of Jesus as illuminator and protector of his flock.

All Holies and Remembrance Day

While these days All Holies begins on the eve of October 31st, and Remembrance on November 11, both were originally part of a festive period connected with the Blood Moon. This marked the final closure of the harvest with slaughter of cattle for smoked meats to endure the winter months. Mythically, this was seen as a time of nature's gradual withdrawal into underworld, often represented by the old stooped crone gathering a bundle of kindling in the forest. It was believed that with this transition, the spirits of the underworld had rule of the roost. Thus the All Holies feast was held to honour the dead; particularly the ancestors, family and kindred. Their graves were decorated with offerings of grains, apples, nuts and other things the season had at it's avail. Torches were lit for the spirits to find their way to these offerings. It is a time of family reunions and kindred gatherings to recount the stories of old. Council elders, chiefs and priests were usually elected at this time for the ancestors to be present. These spirits were formally invited to attend the sitting with a special place set for them at the head of the table. The ceremony was usually concluded with a special solemn eulogy for those who had fallen in battle. Although these holidays have long since been Christianized, the customs haven't really changed much. Tables are still set with place at the head of the table for those past and honoured with a raising of one's glasses in a toast to their memory.

A beautiful example of a powerful old Germanic warrior's eulogy was the one spoken in the film "The Thirteenth Warrior":

Lo, there do I see my father.
Lo, there do I see my mother and my sisters and my brothers.
Lo, there do I see the line of my people back to the beginning.
Lo, they do call to me. They bid me take my place among them
in the halls of Valhalla where the brave may live forever.

The Legends of Untersberg in the Berchesgaden Region

In the days of Christian conquest sacred mountains were renamed after Karl I, thus “Wotansberg” became “Kaiserberg” - where the great king sleeps. The most striking is how the mist there reflects the shadow of the observer, surrounded by three concentric spectral rings, when one stands with their back to the sun. One sees the form of the head and body undistorted, whereas the extremities appear elongated either forward or down from the torso. Interestingly these forms remarkably resemble the images of the Virgin Mary some claimed to have seen there. Note, that area is also reknowned for its “Perchten” traditions. The origin of name “Berchesgaden” itself implies “Berchta’s domain”.

The Iron Gate of Hallthurm

If you drive on the road from Reichenhall to Berchtesgaden, it passes over Hallthurm. Of the ruins of the salzburg fortress that was built in 1194, only the tower remains. In its vicinity, according to legend, is an iron gate, through which one can enter the Untersberg. It is said however, only to be visible for brief instant on rare occasions. According to the oldest known German saga, deep in the magical Wotansberg in an underground cathedral of gold, silver and gemstones, Wotan or Odin, the highest deity of the germanic Aesir along with those of the "Wild Hunt", lie sleeping until the two ravens Hugin and Munin no longer circle the mountain and the need of humanity is great.

Medieval sagas allege that in this “magical mountain”, “time is different”. People who venture into its dark caverns, be it only for a seemingly short time, are said to return to the daylight in the far future. There are also accounts of a shaft from which voices can be heard, and wells out of which the deep sounds of footsteps seem to resonate.

The Wedding Party that Vanished

A particularly bizarre occurance was said to have happened at the Untersberg, when a wedding procession was enroute from St. Leonhard to Grödig. Vernaleken wrote about the incident in 1858:

A rich farmer’s couple and their entourage were on their way to the bride’s parents in next village to celebrate their marriage. Happy and frivolious, in the company of some musicians, they proceded up the road until they reached the Untersberg. There, one of the party began to tell of a king with a great army who had disappeared there, and that since then spirits will appear to wanderers who bring them offerings. So, of course the groom began to call out to these spirit, telling them that he wished to give them something. Suddenly the mountain opened, and a grey clothed little man with silver-white hair appeared. He beckoned them to a door within. The party followed and arrived in a hall where a table lavishly decked with food and drink stood. The tired couple and their entourage sat at the table and indulged themselves. until sleep overtook them for all the drink they consumed. When they awoke again, the mountain spirit guided them back out. They arrived at the surface by daylight, but strangely, the landscape seemed somehow changed. The people they encountered could not understand their language, and it seemed as if they had landed in a foreign country. After a few days they arrived at a village, and asking the name, learned it was their home village, but it didn’t seem like it. They searched for their homes but could only find that totally different houses had been built in their place. They went to the vicar and told him everything that happened. He searched his records and found that the party had disappeared in Untersberg a 100 years earlier.

More recently a subterrainean river cavern was discovered amongst its 400 others, reaching as far as 13 kilometers in this typical alpine karst formation. The region of Salzberg is known to get much of its water from these sources.

Limestone caves such as these were always considered the sacred halls crafted by dwellers of Muspelheim. It doesn't take so much a stretch of the imagination to realize when you've been in one as magnificent as this:

A Bavarian Legend of Holda

Translated by Quasizoid

In Germany she is popularly known in Grimm’s fables as Frau Holle, however the name may vary with local custom and dialect. What they all share in common though, is the image of a wise old crone with superhuman powers who gives advice to the young seeking their path in life.

Frau Hülle

On the Schellenberg between Heimbuchenthal and Wintersbach there was a castle, and in its courtyard a mighty linden tree. It was as old as the castle, and it was said- as long as it stands and remains green, the castle will also remain standing. If it should wither, so will the castle crumble and its residents come to naught. Its lordship had two sons. The younger had broken his leg and since then had a limp, thus was named “Crooked Jacob”. Upon his deathbed the father willed his eldest son as heir, the castle as well as a large chest of money on the promise to always keep Jakob with him and be good to him like a brother should. Of course the older brother gave his promise, but once his father died, soon began to treat Jakob badly. Jakob wasn’t allowed to sit at the same table with him, rather had to sleep in the stable with the horses and eat out of a trough. For a while, Jakob put up with this, but then demanded his part of the inheritance so he could leave and try his luck elsewhere. His brother refused, beat him and had him thrown out. Deeply saddened, Jakob left into the thick forest over the mountains until he finally reached the valley by nightfall. There, he sat under a tree, laying his head in his hands to cry bitterly. As he was about to get up again, he saw an old woman sitting on a stone nearby. She was spinning some yarn and nodded to him as she turned the spindle. This was Frau Hülle. She asked him why he was so sad. “You couldn’t possibly help me”, he answered, wanting to leave. "You are Crooked Jakob from the castle", she said, "and I can and will help you, if you will give me your trust”. Thereupon Jakob opened his heart, told Frau Hülle of his plight. Frau Hülle then spoke: "Come with me, Jakob. In three years we will go to your brother. Perhaps by then he will come to his senses and finally give you your property." She took Jakob with to her small cottage, there he had to water her rosemary bushes, feed the cats and tend her flax fields. In the winter, he had to cut staves for the wine farmers and barge poles for shippers. In the spring he carried them into the valley to market. Frau Hülle took up her distaff like a cane, packed her yarn together in her shawl, and went with him. When Jakob’s load got too heavy for his leg to bear, she took the wood with her thin arms, carrying it on top of her bundle as if it were straw. Jakob had it good with Frau Hülle. She taught him everything about farming, such that he knew more than any natural born farmer. After three years the old woman said taking her distaff in hand; "Now we shall go to your brother!"- and Jakob accompanied her. When they arrived at the castle, Jakob’s brother sat under the linden, as it was terribly humid. The tree was blossoming, giving a broad cool shade and the birds were singing in its branches. His lordship asked what they wished but before Jakob could respond, Frau Hülle spoke for him- that his brother is there and wants what is rightfully his. His lordship refused, threatening that if they didn’t leave immediately he’d take her feeble old head off and beat Jakob’s good leg to a pulp. This made the old woman so furious, she took her distaff and drove it into the lindentree. Suddenly the birds fled the tree as it began to tremble from the roots to the crown. Out of the trunk and branches sap issued forth, as the leaves turned yellow and fell to the ground. “Oh you villain," she protested, "You shall suffer like this tree. You shall wither and waste and die a miserable death.” Then she left with Jakob.

So it came just as Frau Hülle had foretold. As the linden tree died off, the castle began to fall into decay. With each storm a wall or tower collapsed, the floods carrying away the stones, so that none could be built back up again. No one wanted to remain in the castle anymore, and the noble soon finding himself quite alone, withdrew to the cellar to guard his chest of money. Then on a dark November night as there was nothing left of the burg than the cellar and the dead tree, there came a terrible storm. It blew down the tree such that it fell against the cellar doors, trapping him inside. Tried as he might, he could no longer open them, no matter how he threw his weight against them, and so starved to death atop his money chest.

Frau Hülle knew all this well, and returned the day after his death, heaving the tree out of the way to enter. She opened the chest and divided its contents into two even portions. One, she left in the chest, gathering up the rest in her shawl. Once she had left, the cellar also collapsed. When she arrived home, she gave Jakob his money and said; “now both of you have your fair share just as your father had wished. Take what is yours but forget about being a nobleman. Become a farmer as in that you will find your better fortune. Farewell Jakob, because you will not see me again!” Thus Jakob thanked her gratefully and used the money to buy a large farmhouse on the Hundsrück near Altenbuch. He chose himself a wife and many farm hands and maids to become a great farmer. No scourge ever befell his animals, no vermin plagued his orchards and no hail fell on his fields. When in harvest the work was more than his people could handle, it would happen that in the morning that they would find the bales already bound and stacked for them to haul away. This amazed the people, but Jakob knew who it was. Then when his first son was born, in his joy he wanted to find Frau Hülle and tell her the news. He headed off alone, but his quest was in vain, as he found neither the cottage nor the valley where it stood- and after a whole day searching aimlessly he found himself back at the farm by the evening. Indeed he never did see the good Frau Hülle again, yet lived to the blessed old age of 90. His farm still exists to this day, and is known as the “Hundrückshof”.

History of the Yule Tree

Translated by Quasizoid

Prehistory to the Middle Ages:

In various ancient pagan traditions, evergreens had always been regarded as symbolic of fertility and the life force. While in ancient Rome houses were decorated with laurel wreaths, the more northerly regions favoured hanging up conifer sprigs over the winter months to ward off illness- their green, a sign of hope for the return of spring.

In the Middle Ages, the first record of a decorated tree was in Freiburg- erected in the city by the local bakers for Christmas in 1419 and decorated with sweets. On New Year the children were allowed to shake the sweets from its branches and plunder them. In 1597 in Bremen, a tree was also decorated by craftsmen guilds, and 8 years later these became a popular item in homes around Straßburg. Records from the beginning of 17th century establish decorated evergreens as a widespread tradition. It was in 1611, the duchess Dorothea Sibylle von Schlesien was the first to decorate the tree with small candles, thus setting the trend for the next 400 years.

The Yule Tree in German Liturature:

The yule tree is first immortalized in literatur in 1774 by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe in his story "Die Leiden des jungen Werther" where his protagonist Werther revels about a tree garnished with wax lights, sweets and apples. Friedrich Schiller and E.T.A Hoffmann also write about an evergreen bearing a host of decorations.

Around 1830 the first balls of glass appear as decorations, and in 1878 in Nürnberg, the first strands of tinsel were used to give the appearance of icicles.

The conifer as a Christmas tree in Europe:

At first spruce and pine was a rare commodity in central Europe and thus quite expensive. Only the rich could afford a whole tree, while the rest had to settle for mere sprigs. By the middle of the 19th century, however, the demand became so great, that ever more forests of these conifers had to be cultivated to meet the demand.

The church, on the other hand, did not favour such a pagan custom becoming popular trend. Thus it wasn't until the latter part of the 19th century that this icon was finally accepted by the rather critical Lutherans as a Christmas symbol.

More Yule Traditions

Among the Germanic people it was customary to bind a wreath of evergreen in the form of the sun wheel, which was then burnt on Yule, marking the end of the solar year. The word "Jul" itself means "wheel of life". The twelve "Raw Nights" thereafter were usually devoted to divination, lighting candles and casting runes each day to foretell what the new year would bring. Over the course of Christianisation however, the yule wreath became the advent wreath with four candles, each lit on the Sundays preceding Christmas eve, whereas for New Year's the Germans adopted the old Roman divination practice of casting melted lead in cold water, or "Molybdomancy" as it is called.

This quote from wiki:

Molybdomancy is a technique of divination using molten metal. Typically molten lead or tin is dropped into water.
The method was invented in ancient Greece, and today it is a common New Year tradition in the Nordic countries and Germany and Austria. Classically, tin is melted on a stove and poured into a bucket of cold water. The resulting shape is either directly interpreted as an omen for the future, or is rotated in a candlelight to create shadows, whose shapes are then interpreted.

In Finland, shops sell ladles and small bullions in the shape of a horseshoe for this expressed purpose. Originally made from tin, now they are made from cheaper low-melting alloys based on lead. The practice is known as uudenvuodentina; . World's largest uudenvuodentina, 41 kg, was cast by members of the Valko volunteer fire department in Loviisa, Finland in New Year 2010.

The shapes are often interpreted not only literally, but also symbolically: a bubbly surface refers to money, a fragile or broken shape misfortune. Ships refer to travelling, keys to career advancement, a basket: a good mushroom year, and a horse: a new car.

The Story of Wieland the Young Smith

Translated by Quasizoid

As Wieland turned 9 winters old, his father Wate said to him. "You have bright eyes and are a clever lad. You shall learn a useful craft. I want you to become a smith. Wieland was full of joy, and so he rode with his father to Mime, the master smith. The trip took many days. Mime immediately took the diligent boy into apprenticeship. The lad proved himself most worthy and his master enjoyed putting his skills to the test. There was plenty of work in the forge, knights and peasants came from afar. Mime had to make swords and spears for the knights, while the peasants required nails, horseshoes and chains. Mime needed ever more apprentices and journeymen. One day the young Siegfried came to Mime in apprenticeship as well. He was a strong and wild lad. He often got into fights with the other apprentices and journeymen, even Wieland.

Of course when Wate got wind of this, he took his son home. Wieland had been an apprentice at Mime’s smithy for 3 years and had become quite creatively skilled in his craft. His amazing talent was the talk of the land, thus it brought him plenty of work. Wieland stuck around home for about 12 months. Then one day he learned of two dwarves, living in a hollow mountain. They were the best smiths in the entire world. They could not only forge swords, helmets and knives, but also the most artistic torques, bracelets and rings of gold- all manner of jewelry much sought after by the womenfolk. There was nothing they couldn’t craft out of metal.

When Wate learned of these artisans, he took the now 13 year old Wieland to them. On the 9th day of their journey they came to a broad river without a bridge. Nor was an ferry to be found. Thus the giant carried his son on his shoulders as he waded across the deep waters. Finally, when they reached the dwarves, Wate spoke: “This is my son Wieland and I want him to learn his craft better. For that I wish to offer you a hat full of gold”. Of course, the dwarves were only too keen to accept, so Wate concluded: "After 12 months I shall return to collect him”. Thus Wieland remained with the dwarves in their mountain forge. He was so clever and skillful that he soon became as skilled as his masters.

Then at the end of that year, Wate, returned to take Wieland home. The dwarves, however were not keen to give the talented young man up so easily. They said to Wate: "If you leave Wieland with us another 12 months, then we’ll return you your hat full of gold." Wate was somewhat hesitant about this, so they asked: "and what if we teach him twice as much, as he has already mastered?" To that, Wate agreed. However as deceitful as they were in their second thoughts about the gold, they said to Wate. "If you don’t return on this same day in 12 months, then we’ll kill the lad." Wate thought to himself: This day I’ll never forget. That, I am certain. Thus he had Wieland escort him a short ways before leaving. Once certain they were far enough away that the dwarves could no longer see them, Wate drew his sword and shoved it into the earth under a birchtree, until only the grip was barely visible. He told Wieland “Remember this place well! If I should not be with you in a year from today, and the dwarves intend to harm you, there is the sword. Fend yourself bravely! It is better you slay them, than allow them any chance to kill you." The two then bade their farewells and the father rode off homewards.

The young smith returned to the dwarves' enclave and the mountain closed behind him with a thundering. In the months to follow, Wieland learned the finest of metalurgy from the two dwarves. He was friendly and helpful wherever he could- but they grew increasingly jealous, as he soon achieved more than they ever could. Secretly, they only wished that his father would never return in time. The father, however, hastily made his way back before the year ended. Not once did he sleep, lest he arrive too late. So it happened that he arrived at the mountain three days earlier than planned and found the mountain was still sealed shut. Wate was tired from the journey and desperately needed sleep- so he laid down behind the mountain, under a cliff and soon fell into a deep slumber. While he slept the rain came down so heavily that the entire side of the mountain gave away into a landslide burying him deep. The slag was so thick and heavy that Wate never woke up, unable to breathe under this dense mass.

The next day the dwarves opened the mountain to see if Wate had arrived. When they could not see him, Wieland said: "I will go out a ways to meet him." The dwarves permitted him. Enroute, Wieland came across the valley where the landslide had occurred. It was then, he feared that his father had met his doom. Thus he searched for the sword and found it, and summing up his courage, returned to the enclave. The dwarves were waiting for him, and seeing the sword in his hand, they were intent on killing him- but Wieland was much too fast for them. Swiftly he struck down the one and then the other, collected the tools of gold and silver, and loaded them on the dwarves’ steed. Wieland hastened 6 days on foot until he arrived at the river. The horse was too heavily laiden to swim, so Wieland felled a large tree and stripped it smoothly of its bark. He hollowed out the trunk, stuffed it with his treasures and provisions, then carved an entrance he could close as well as made a proper window of glass. He let the steed free then climbed into his tree-vessel. The current readily carried it off down the river.

After 18 days, the log finally became caught in a fishnet. When the fishermen saw the strange log with the window in it, they ran to King Nidung and told him of their peculiar catch. King Nidung immediately went to the scene and ordered that they split the log. When they struck the log with an axe Wieland spoke up: "You people stop that, in this tree is a living man!” Hearing this, they thought for sure it was the devil, so they scattered in fear like young lambs. In the meantime, however, Wieland lifted the door of his subterfuge, and slipped out into the open. He approached King Nidung, greeting him formally and told his story. The King had always desperately needed such a good craftsman, thus asked him if he would be his royal smith...and so Wieland became reknowned for his skill throughout the kingdom- the desire of every knight to possess one of his swords.

More about the Wieland Saga

The oldest testimony to the Wieland Saga is the 7th century “Franks Casket”. Next to the rather Christian portrayal of the three magi, is an epic illustration of Wieland. It portrays the blood revenge of a tormented man against his oppressors, an idea far removed from any Christian concept. However, in the tradition of old Gothic sagas, the smith is a disir that has fallen into the clutches of a greedy oppressor, namely the king Nidung- who, according to the eddic verses, had Wieland’s knee ligaments cut to prevent any escape. In the original mythical sense, this implied that the king robbed Wieland of his alven ability to be released from his human form as that of a bird. Only the destruction of his oppressor can now release him. Therewith is retribution, in the germanic sense, necessary and justified. In this case, the image of the three magi, can be regarded as a suitable representation. It corresponds to the idea of magic rather than anything of religious intent.

The image shows a smith at his anvil. At his feet is the beheaded body of a youth, namely Nidung’s son. He has the head in his tonges, out of which he will fashion a drinking vessel. When the unwitting father drinks from this vessel, as one did in those times with the skulls of one’s enemies, so ends the cycle of his patrilineage forever. However, the clan may still find heirs through Nidung’s daughter, so she stands next to the anvil, reaching for the cup Wieland hands her. She will drink of the drugged brew and be subsequently raped by the smith. When she carries his child, this also defeats the chance of Nidung’s will continuing through matrilineage. Next to the girl, separated by an ornamental symbol, stands a woman, concealing a bottle in her cloak. If she was the one who brought the drugged brew, then she must be the swan maiden mentioned in the Volundsang. Her assistance in the completion of this retribution ennables his escape in the form of a bird. Conclusively, the bird catcher on the right of this image illustrates Nidung trying to keep hold of his “golden goose”. In this lurks the double meaning that not only represents the alfen, and more so the prosperity they can bring- but the relationship of our hero to his wife, if not his fylgia.

As it is in such illustrations, every element of detail has its meanings. Note the dot above the smith and the two further ones over the throne of the maiden. If we are to interpret their worth in runic values, one would represent feoh- meaning possession, and to the right of his head- the yr rune represents such wealth as bow, gold, jewelry and drinkhorn. The “not” runes over the disembodied head and above the cup the smith holds, give warning. The symbols right and left of the Walkur, make this message clearer. The floralized Eolhx represents a swamp reed that cuts like a knife and is also the sign of the walkur, namely the habitat where they appear in the form of swans.

In the Gotland stone, we see a similar testimony of the Wieland saga. At the focal point of this particular scene, is the cross-section of a house with turf roof. Two hammers and two tonges show that it houses the smith’s forge. There are two beheaded figures to the right of it and possibly the outline of a boat beneath them. Left, from the opening in the wall of the house flies a huge bird form. The woman, man and bird appear so closely intertwined in it that they stand out from the rest as a union symbolic of the retribution having been fulfilled. Superimposed on this is also the figure of woman leaving in the same direction. This is Nidung’s daughter, while the two beheaded figures are those of the king’s sons.

The oldest literary evidence of the Volundsaga can be found in the Codex Regius and an eddic fragment of the Codex Arnamagneanus. In medieval efforts to compose these spurious fragments into a tangible story, much of the alfen attributes of Wieland became replaced with more mortal associations to the son of a northern king, and a number of romantic variations on the theme of his journey southward into the clutches of his inevitable nemesis king Nidung. Nidung and his clan too is portrayed in various forms from greedy despot to mythical king of the nyades (treacherous water spirits). Needless to say, over the course the story loses much of its original character of the germanic mindset.

The Germanic Roots of Father Christmas

By Quasizoid

Hidden away in the popular iconizations of modern day Santa Claus, are the symbologies of bygone European shamanism. In those days, Wotan was the god of visions, traveller of the Nine Worlds. The red and white garments reminds us of the fly agaric (amanita muscaria), a popular halucinogen of shamanic practices of the time. This old folksong from Hoffman von Fallersleben of upper Selesia, gives clue to this personification:

Ein Männlein steht im Walde ganz still und stumm
Es hat vor lauter Purpur ein Mäntelein um
Sagt, wer mag das Männlein sein,
Das da steht im Wald allein
Mit dem purpurroten Mäntelein.

Das Männlein steht im Walde auf einem Bein
Und hat auf seinem Haupte schwarz Käpplein klein,
Sagt, wer mag das Männlein sein,
Das da steht im Wald allein
Mit dem kleinen schwarzen Käppelein ?

Gesprochen:
Das Männlein dort auf einem Bein
Mit seinem roten Mäntelein
Und seinem schwarzen Käppelein
Kann nur die Hagebutte sein.

In Germany, replicas of this mushroom still adorn Christmas trees, garlands and wreaths. Santa's sled drawn by 8 reindeer remind us of the solar wagon drawn by the 8 legged Sleipnir and "Wild Hunt" of old Germanic folklore, whereas reindeer are known by Siberian herders to favour the fly agaric in their forest foragings. It is from their folklore the idea of "flying" reindeer came.

In more modern German folklore there is a character who accompanies Old Nick, known as "Knecht Ruprecht". While Nikolas represents the rewarding of good, Ruprecht with his bundle of sticks is there to exact punishment of the trouble makers. He is, however, is a throwback to the legends of Rübezahl, who is none other than the spirit of Wotan as he was before his trickster attributes came to identified with Loki through the course of Christianization. Rather, Rübezahl's shapeshifting pranks served to bring due justice or reward to the unfortunate. Yule itself, is a celebration of Wotan's journey through the nine worlds and subsequent marriage with Berchta, (Hel, Holle, Holla, Freya) who was not only goddess of the underworld but queen of the dark elves and fae. In pre-Christian times marriage was not a permanent fixture, rather, vows were renewed each year following. In legends, Holla is also known for her charity and justice to the unfortunate.

While the old "Perchten" traditions of this underworld journey are still alive in the fore-Alpine regions of continental Europe, it can be seen in the masks and costumes how these figures were subsequently demonized into the characters of Krampus and Berchta of the "Schiachperchten". Only in remotest Alpine Switzerland is the original "Wildemann" Tradition to be found.

The Wild Hunt and the Raunächten (Raw Nights)

Traditionally it is on the eve of Yule when the "Wild Hunt" begins. Wotan who has completed his underworld journey, arises, with Berchta, the ice giants, the dark elves and other denizens to claim the old, weak and diseased. In ancient Europe this was understood as a purification process. Hence, homes and stalls were swept out and smudged with smoking bundles of spruce and herbs known to have antiseptic properties. I remember as a child, my mother would ritually bring a spruce sprig to smoke on the kitchen stove to mark the occasion. It's also this time of year the village is filled with the delicious aroma of hickory smoked hams. The ritual of feasting and clearing goes on until the 6th of January, when Berchta returns with her entourage and their quarry to her underworld domain, where they begin to fertilize the earth for the coming of Spring. This is immortalized in the mask carving traditions of the High Black Forest, called the "Perchten Walk", where people dressed up like these figures, go into the forest to celebrate with plenty of mulled wine and a dance around a great bonfire (at some appropriately located pub or lodge). The google images photo comes from the Perchten of Lake Constance, a joint celebration between France, Germany and Switzerland.

The Fylgja or Shadow Fetch

By Quasizoid

Countless Germanic Sagas mention the Fylgja, Forynja, Fyreferd, Hamingja; vividly describing the various ways the human soul spirit can manifest itself. Fylgja means "follower"; namely a shadow fetch that accompanies each of us through life. The Fylgja may appear to the owner and others around them, as an omen of death or grave misfortune. It may appear in the full human gestalt of its owner as a "Doppelgänger" (such as the famous case of Emilie Sagee), a "second face" or even shape-shifting animal gestalts, such as the Berserkers (Ulfhednar) were famous for. In the Wieland Saga, Wieland's knee ligaments were cut to prevent his escape from King Nidung in the form of a bird. Swans were also thought to be the fylgja of the Valkiris.

The Fylgja more commonly likes to reveal itself in one's dreams whereas it's more ghostly apparitions tend to prefer the waking hours. While the Fylgja may, in one way, be understood as the "Hugir" (soul), it can also describe a Fylgjukona or even a Dis, namely; guardian spirits of the female variety; that may defend their own gender, watch over an individual, or a whole kindred.

Sometimes several Fylgjur may be bound to a person to insure their safe journey in life as well as death, often in the form of the three Norns (the weavers of fate). Thus some people may have stronger Fylgjur, in essence; more fortune or "Hamingja" than others. While a Fylgjur may also embody the collective spirit of one's ancestors, it is still to be understood as its own individual entity. All in all these manifestations were generally described as dark forms until the time of Snorri Sturlsson. In his account of the Olaf Saga (Heimskringla), he presents 9 women in light robes from the south as opposed to the nine black robed Fylgjur of Norse tradition, in a cryptic attempt to illustrate some epic struggle of good and evil over the soul of the unfortunate Thidrandi.

Speaking from my own personal experience, we seem a dynamic union of matter (dark) and energy (light) in a convectional node of the local spacetime continuum. Remove the energy and you have gravity. Gravity is what defines substance, whereas energy is what breathes life (spirit) into it, makes it dynamic. The fylgia has always felt to me like that gravitational vessel that holds the soul spirit. Take away that spirit and it feels like a gravitational vortice. This defines the death fylgja. This is what I experienced from countless people who left this world. The death fylgja collects their residual energies until that channel can finally close. Yes, in a way you could say it gathers up the pieces. Take that conversely, and by the same principle you can manifest an alterego. In other words shape-shifting.

I've often heard people coin the term "soul retrieval" and "soul fragments" in neo-shamanism. However, I find that it does little to understand what is really happening on the para-physical level with death. My father had a severe stroke that destroyed much his left cranial hemisphere. He was a man raised on that stubborn old Briton stiff upper lip code of silence, so full of duplicity and the most ironic self contradictions. Living with the man was like a modern version of Shakespeare's King Lear. Just before he left for Holland that fateful week, the signs couldn't have been more evident, but he would not listen to reason. His last words were, "If you think I'm going to come back some kind bed ridden mental cripple you'll have to spoon feed, you're wrong. That's just not going to happen". Well it did...and in the weeks that he laid there apathetically, in the neurological clinic; all the jealously guarded mistakes, he kept hidden all these years, came down on me in one crash. The last thing I needed was his fylgja appearing in my dreams to tell me not to worry, that he'd be still around until I sorted the whole mess out. Four years I nursed his steadily failing body, that will tenaciously hanging on until there was nothing left. It practically drained the life out of me too. Three days before he finally died, his fylgja came again, only this time it was an empty vessel, a channel sequesting any empathic links to feed on them. It chilled me to the bone so I let go of them and resisted any further probing. When he passed I felt nothing, just a sense of presence when his fylgja began poltering around the house for weeks afterward. A few times it tried to draw from me again to no avail. About 6 months later, much to my relief, it finally moved on and that portal closed.

As you can see from my little anecdote of life experience, there are a number of things to be wary of in dealing with such quasi-temporal manifestations. A fylgja without a mortal vessel is the stuff of ghosts and unresolved souls. Not all of them are to be empathically reckoned with.

The Doppelgänger in German Folklore

By Quasizoid

Well known around the world, the term "Doppelgänger" in folklore generally refers to one encountering a fylgia of oneself, an omen of imminent death. One popular tale from Selesia in 1750 tells of a young man named Franz heading home on a rainy night in his uncle's old overcoat. He raises his lantern to see the way better and finds a figure, barely 20 paces before him with a similar lantern raised, shining its light on him from the corner to the potters mill. Franz assumes the figure is waiting for him, but as he proceeds forward, the light disappears around the corner. As he ventures around the corner, he sees the figure still walking ahead of him. However, this time Franz is able to make out the figure's form against the light. It is then Franz realizes the figure is dressed the same, with the collar of the overcoat also turned up. As Franz raises his lantern again to see him better, he is surprised to see the figure do the same. Being as his uncle's overcoat was quite a relic of bygone fashion, it seemed too unlikely to find anything like it anywhere in town. Thus Franz was ever more compelled to confront this gestalt and see his face. However as Franz quickened his pace, so did the figure. He follows the figure, which leads him to the steps of a church where he finally calls out to the figure to reveal himself. The figure suddenly turns, lantern also held high, and Franz is shocked to see his own face staring back at him. He flees back to his uncle's place where he spends the night. When he returns home the next morning, he discovers that the ceiling over his bed had collapsed during the night.

This tale has a variety of versions in Selesian lore, each modified to suit the time of publication, so one can expect that its origins are much older.

http://www.oobe.ch/peuck01.htm

In some cases a doppelgänger is not necessarily an omen, but a subconscious restlessness that seeks to be elsewhere for whatever reasons. Perhaps the most famous of these is the story of Emilie Sagée, however there are a good many cases where people were aided in an emergency by the fetch of a friend or relative while that person was actually hundreds of miles away at home sleeping.

The Legends of Rübezahl

Written and translated by Quasizoid

Rübezahl is a capricious mountain wight indigenous to the regions of the Hirschberg in what was once the German province of Selesia, but his story is much older. It is also interesting to note that the dense forests of these regions were still impassible in the 18th century. As for Rübezahl himself, the oldest legends describe him as an antlered shape-shifter whose moods are as changeable as the storm winds he embodies. The fact is, his every attribute in these sagas describe Wodan perfectly as he was known to those regions in pre-Christian times. Especially in the story of his abduction of the princess, one can see the parallels to Odin's abduction of Freya. It is also said some Arthurian legends also share a common ancestry with these sagas. The story of Rübezahl entails 9 sagas of his adventures.

One summer four musicians from Bohemia were making their way across the mountains when they were approached by a cavalier with two horses. They were sitting and resting, and the latter asked them what they were doing there. They replied that they were musicians, and that they had exhausted their provisions. If he would give them something, then they would play for him. He agreed and told them to play away. They played several cheerful pieces. His horse dropped four horse biscuits. Because there were four of them, he told each of them to take one of the horse biscuits, and to be satisfied with it. Then he rode away.

The good people looked at their honorarium. Three of them left the biscuits lying there, but the fourth took his along. He had a piece of paper with him, so he wrapped it up and put it in his pocket. When they arrived at an inn, it was a Sunday, and many guests were there. They performed to earn some money. At the end of the day, after the guests had left, they counted how much they had earned. The three of them said to the fourth, that he should also add in his biscuit. The latter said: "The biscuit will not be the worst thing that we received." Then he pulled it out, and it was black and heavy. He scraped at it with his knife, and inside it was nothing but pure gold. His companions were horrified that they had not kept theirs. They went back, but found nothing.
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Once upon a time a glazier who, travelling across the mountains, felt very tired from the heavy load of glass which he was carrying. He began to look about for a place where he might rest it. Rubezahl, who had been watching this for some time, changed himself into a little mound, on which the glazier unwittingly proposed to seat himself with much relief. But his joy was short lived, when the heap vanished from under him so suddenly, that the poor glazier fell to the ground with his glass, smashing it into a thousand pieces.

The poor fellow arose shaken and looked around him, but the mound of earth where he sat was strangely gone. Then he began bitterly to lament, with heartfelt sorrow over this misfortune. With an air of defeat, he resumed his journey. Seeing this, Rubezahl, assuming the appearance of a traveller, and intercepted to ask what his woe was. The glazier related to him the whole affair; how he had wearily seated himself on a mound by the wayside, and how this had suddenly disappeared, tumbling him, thus breaking his whole stock of glass- which was well worth eight dollars. He declared that he knew not how he could possibly recover his loss and bring the business to a good ending. The compassionate mountain sprite comforted him, told him who he was, and that he himself had played him the trick, and at the same time bade him be of good cheer, for his losses should be made good to him.

Upon hearing this, Rubezahl transformed himself into an ass, and directed the glazier to sell him at the mill which lay at the foot of the mountain, and to be sure to make off with the purchase-money as quickly as possible. The glazier complied, immediately straddling the transformed mountain sprite, and rode him down the mountain to the mill, where he offered him to the miller for ten dollars. The miller offered nine, and the glazier, without further haggling, took the money and went his way.

When he was gone the miller sent his newly purchased beast to the stable, and the boy who had charge of him immediately filled his rack with hay. Upon this Rubezahl exclaimed--

"I don't eat hay. I eat nothing but roasted and boiled, and that of the best."

The boy's hair stood on end. He flew to his master, and related to him this wondrous tale, and no sooner his master heard it, he hastened to the stable and found nothing, for both his ass and his nine dollars were gone.

But the miller was rightly served, for he had cheated many poor people in his time, therefore justice was rightly served by Rubezahl's prank.
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In the year 1512 a nobleman, who was a tyrant and oppressor,commanded one of his peasants to bring home an oak of extraordinary size with his horses and cart- threatening the peasant with the heaviest punishment and disgrace if he failed to fulfil his lordship's wishes. The peasant saw that it was impossible for him to fufill the demands of his lord, and fled to the woods with despair.

There he was accosted by Rubezahl, who appeared to him like a man and asked what was the cause of his great sorrow and affliction. Upon this the peasant related to him all the circumstances of the case. When Rubezahl heard it he bade him be of good cheer and care not, but go home to his house again, as he himself would soon transport the oak, as his lordship required, into his courtyard.

Scarcely had the peasant left to return home, Rubezahl took the monstrous oak-tree, with its thick and sturdy boughs, and hurled it into the courtyard of the nobleman- that with its huge stem, and its many thick branches, it so choked and blocked the entrance that no one could get either in or out. Because the oak proved harder than their iron tools, it could, by no means or force, be hewn or cut in pieces. Thus the nobleman had no choice but break through the walls for another doorway into the courtyard- and that with great labour and expense.
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Once upon a time Rubezahl made, from what materials unknown, a quantity of pigs, which he drove to the neighbouring market and sold to a peasant, with a caution that the he should not drive them through water.

Of course what happened, is that these pigs got so covered with mire, that the peasant had to drive them into the river. No sooner had they entered the water, the pigs suddenly became wisps of straw, and were carried away by the stream. The peasant, had no choice but put up with the loss, as he could neither find his pigs nor the person from whom he had bought them.
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Rubezahl once betook himself to the Hirschberg, which is in the neighbourhood of his forest haunts, and there offered his services as a woodcutter to one of the townsmen, asking for nothing more than a bundle of wood as payment. This the man promised him, accepting his offer, and pointed out some carts and tools, intended to help him with the job. To this Rubezahl replied--

"No. It is quite unnecessary. All that I can very well accomplish by myself."

Puzzled, his new master asked him what sort of a hatchet he had planned to use, as he could see his new worker did not appear to have one with him.

"Oh," said Rubezahl, "I'll soon get a hatchet."

He laid hands upon his left leg, and pulled on it such that it came off at the thigh, and with it cut, as if he had been raving mad, all the wood into small pieces of proper lengths and sizes in about a quarter of an hour, thus proving that a dismembered foot is a thousand times more effective for such purposes than the sharpest axe.

All this while the owner (who saw plainly that mischief was intended) kept calling upon the wondrous woodcutter to desist and go about his business. Rubezahl, however, insisted-

"I will not move from this spot until I have hewn the wood as small as I agreed to, and have got my wages for so doing."

Despite the heated quarrel Rubezahl finished his job, screwed his leg back on again, then gathered all the wood he had cut into one bundle. Heaving it up onto his shoulder, he then started off with it towards his favourite retreat- heedless of the cries and lamentations of his master.

In this case Rubezahl was also avenging an injustice, for his employer had tasked many a poor man to bring wood to his home, yet failed to pay them wages. Thus Rubezahl laid at the door of each of these men, as much of the huge bundle as it would repay them, and so the business was brought to a proper termination.
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It once happened that a messenger vexed or played some trick upon Rubezahl, who thereupon revenged himself in the following manner, evening the score:

A messenger, in one of his journeys over the mountains, entered an hotel to refresh himself, and placed his spear as usual behind the door. No sooner had he done so, Rubezahl carried off the spear, transformed himself into a similar one, and took its place.

The messenger finished his rest, then set forth again with the spear, but after some time on his journey, it kept slipping such that the messenger lost his balance, landing him in the most intolerable muck. It did this so often that finally he could not tell for the life of him what had possessed the spear, that it kept slipping instead of holding fast each time it time it touched the ground.

He looked at it longways and sideways, from above, from underneath, but could find no cause for this. After this, he went on a little ways, only to find himself once again falling into the morass, and began wailing-

"Woe is me! woe is me!" at his spear, to no avail. So then he tried it with the pike end down. No sooner had he done this, he found himself being thrown backwards instead of forwards, and so got into an even worse plight.

Finally he got fed up and carried it across his shoulders like a pikeman, as it was useless as a staff, and so continued his journey. But Rubezahl continued his tricks by weighing so heavily on the messenger as though he had got a yoke on his back. He changed the spear from one shoulder to the other, until at last, from very weariness, he threw away the bewitched weapon, imagining that the Evil One must possess it, and went his way without it.

He barely got a ways further, when, at a glance about him, he was astonished to find his spear again by his side. Knowing little what to make of it, he finally ventured to lay hands on it and lift it up again, though quite uncertain how he should carry it. He had no desire to trail it any more on the ground, and the thought of carrying it on his shoulder made him shudder. He decided, however, to give it another trial, carrying it in his hand. Fresh troubles now arose. The spear weighed so heavy that he could not stir it a foot from the spot, and though he tried first one hand and then another, all his efforts were in vain.

At last he bethought him of riding upon the spear, as a child bestrides a stick. A wonderful change now came over the weapon. It ran on as though it had been a fleet horse, and thus mounted the messenger rode on without ceasing until he descended the mountain and came into the city, where he excited the wonder, delight, and laughter of the worthy citizens.

Although he had endured some trouble in the early part of his journey, the messenger thought he had been amply compensated at the close, and he comforted himself by making up his mind that in all future journeys he was destined to perform he would bestride his nimble spear. His good intentions were, however, frustrated. Rubezahl had played his game, and had had all the amusement he desired with the poor knave. Accordingly he scampered away, leaving in his place the real spear, which never played any more tricks, but, like any normal spear, accompanied its master in an orderly fashion.
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A poor woman, who got her living by gathering herbs, once went, accompanied by her two children, to the mountains, carrying with her a basket in which to gather the plants, which she was in the habit of disposing of to the apothecaries. Having chanced to discover a large tract of land covered with such plants as were most esteemed, she busied herself so in filling her basket that she lost her way, and was troubled to find out how to get back to the path from which she had wandered. On a sudden a man dressed like a peasant appeared before her, and said--

"Well, good woman, what is it you are looking for so anxiously? and where do you want to go?"

"Alas!" replied she, "I am a poor woman who has neither bit nor sup, obliged to wander and gather herbs, so that I may buy bread for myself and my hungry children. I have lost my way, and cannot find it. I pray you, good man, take pity on me, and lead me out of the thicket into the right path, so that I may make the best of my way home."

"Well, my good woman," replied Rubezahl, for it was he, "make yourself happy. I will show you the way. But what good are those roots to you? They will be of little benefit. Throw away this rubbish, and gather from this tree as many leaves as will fill your basket; you will find them answer your purpose much better."

"Alas!" said the woman, "who would give a penny for them? They are but common leaves, and good for nothing."

"Be advised, my good woman," said Rubezahl; "throw away those you have got, and follow me."

He repeated his injunction over and over again in vain, until he got tired, for the woman would not be persuaded. At last, he fairly laid hold of the basket, threw the herbs out by main force, and supplied their place with leaves from the surrounding bushes. When he had finished, he told the woman to go home, and led her into the right path.

The woman, with her children and her basket, journeyed on some distance; but they had not gone far before she saw some valuable herbs growing by the wayside. No sooner did she perceive them than she longed to gather them, for she hoped that she should obtain something for them, while the leaves with which her basket was crammed were, she thought, good for nothing. She accordingly emptied her basket, throwing away the rubbish, as she esteemed it, and having filled it once more with roots, journeyed on to her dwelling at Kirschdorf.

As soon as she arrived at her home she cleansed the roots she had gathered from the earth which clung around them, tied them neatly together, and emptied everything out of the basket. Upon doing this, something glittering caught her eye, and she commenced to make a careful examination of the basket. She was surprised to discover several ducats sticking to the wickerwork, and these were clearly such of the leaves as remained of those which she had so thoughtlessly thrown away on the mountains.

She rejoiced at having preserved what she had, but she was again sorely vexed that she had not taken care of all that the mountain spirit had gathered for her. She hastened back to the spot where she had emptied the basket, in hopes of finding some of the leaves there; but her search was in vain--they had all vanished.