Grigovian fairy-tales 1

Davoyend of Grissend was a naughty boy. He'd show up late for school; he'd eat only bread and sweets, refusing all vegetables; and he'd steal his younger siblings' presents on the feast of old King Vuolvesst the Merciful, on the night of the winter solstice, when it was customary to exchange gifts.

'Happy Fest of Vuolvesst,' said Therr, Davoyend's younger brother, hoping for a kind word in return. The older son, however, as he was wont to do, reared back and punched the boy in the eye-socket, pushed him down the hill next to their house, and ran inside to raid his meager stash of loose liquorice sticks and peppermint bonbons wrapped in paper.
'Look at me, I am the greatest,' Davoyend yelled as his brother struggled through deep and swirling banks of snow. With brown and sugary juices staining his chin, the older child made as if to push his brother back down the hill. Therr tricked him, however, by feinting left but going right. Rushing through the gathering night back to the house, the young boy pulled the door closed behind him and ran to the fire, to warm up.
'You rush in here caked in snow,' said Ulentha, their mother, shaking her head at the wet footprints staining the rough, wooden planks. Her scolding completed, she resumed chopping vegetables for the mutton stew, a meal customary eaten on the Fest of Vuolvesst. 'Where is your brother?' she asked.
Therr, shivering violently as powdery snows turned to water and ran down the back of his shirt, tried to answer with words, but could only manage a croaking sound.
'Perhaps he went to atone for his sins at the shrine of the mountain spirit,' said Ulentha, bending to the dishes, their clatter keeping her from hearing Davoyend pounding weakly at the back door.

The next morning, the village watchman in the course of his rounds found Davoyend leaning against the wall of his parent's home, frozen stiff, his face stained with sugary juices, his mouth, for once, empty of venomous vituperation.

***

One evening, while following a faint animal path toward his home, woodsman Heiryath Bordendt tripped over a piece of string. The string had been strung across the path and attached to some bells: they chimed softly. From the surrounding bushes came suddenly a couple of men running, bows armed with arrows, hollow eyes flashing in gaunt faces. Finding a man instead of a deer sprawled on the ground at their feet, they decided to rob him.

Heiryath, however, was clever, and quick. As soon as he realized that the men meant him harm, he spun into a fighting crouch with his hunting knife and ax extended in front of him. Blinded by hunger and greed, the men charged. Heiryath knocked each man unconscious with the blunt side of his ax, but instead of causing them injury, he left them with the last of his food and a note telling the local green grocer to feed them and send to the woodsman the bill.

mentiri factorem fecit © 場黑麥