Traditional Folktale of The Three Trees

In Western Asia, between the Mediterranean Sea and the Jordan River, which cuts through the Sea of Galilee, lies a place known as Israel. In this special place, there are two historical cities called Bethlehem and Jerusalem. This traditional folktale takes us to those places as well as to hope and faith.

A long time ago, among many rolling green hills, there was one hill distinct by its three trees.

As seasons changed, the trees changed with them. Spring covered the barren branches with lush green leaves. Summer turned the leaves upwards toward the sun. Autumn changed the green leaves into beautiful range of red and golden colors. Winter brought the branches to its barren state. It did not cover the branches with its white fluffy snow as in other cooler regions.

During those seasons, the three trees dreamed of their destiny. The first tree spoke, “I wish to be turned into the most delicate looking chest on the outside, but the sturdiest on the inside.”

“Why would you wish for that?” asked the third three.

“To hold the heaviest and the finest jewelry in the world,” answered the first tree.

The second tree replied, “I want to be turned into the most spectacular ship.”

“Why would you wish for that?” asked the third three again.

“To travel around the world and carry the grandest of all people such as kings and queens,” responded the second tree.

The first and the second tree looked at the third tree and asked, “You don’t have a dream?”

The third tree sighed, “I do. I wish to stay here and reach the heaven.”

For many years, all three trees remained on the hill until one sunny day, when a woodcutter came. He raised his axe and kept chopping the first tree until it fell. The first tree spoke, “I am ready for my dream to come true.”

The following day, the woodcutter did the same thing to the second tree, which spoke exactly the same words as the first tree, “I am ready for my dream to come true.”

On the third day, the third tree wept, when it saw the woodcutter approaching the hill and said, “But my dream is over.”

The woodcutter chopped the first tree into small pieces and sold it to a carpenter. The carpenter sawed the wood into planks and nailed them together into a sturdy manger. Then he sold it to a farmer from Bethlehem, who put it in his stable and filled it with hay for animals. “Oh, my dream is over,” sighed the first tree.

One night, a baby was laid on hay in the manger. A man and a woman surrounded by animals watched over this special baby. The first tree then knew it was holding the greatest treasure in the world.

The second tree was cut into big pieces and sold to a carpenter. The carpenter nailed the planks into a sturdy boat, then sold it to fishermen. Each night the fishermen took the boat to a lake called the Sea of Galilee and once the net filled with fish, they pulled them onto the boat. The boat left the shore only during the night and just for fishing. Its wood now smelled of fish. “Oh, my dream is over,” sighed the second tree.

One night, storm raised the waves crushing them against the boat. The fishermen prayed for their safe return. A man appeared in the boat, spread his arms and turned his palms down calming the waters. The second tree then knew it was carrying the mightiest king in the world.

The third tree was cut into long pieces and moved to a wood-yard to wait for its order. One day, in Jerusalem two long planks were cut and nailed together creating a cross. A man was nailed to the cross and the cross was raised up with the man. People wept watching the man die.

The following day, a miracle happened; the man who had died on the cross was reborn and was seen among the people again. The third tree then knew it reached the heaven.

Source: The Three Trees. A Traditional Folktale by Elena Pasquali.

Legend of Robin Hood

At the heart of England, there is a city named Nottingham. At the center of the city stands the Nottingham Palace with a statue of Robin Hood. The legendary Robin Hood has been at the center stage of English folklore for many centuries. And this heroic outlaw takes us to his legend.

During the times of King Harry the Second of England, in the forests near the town of Nottingham lived Hugh Fitzooth with his wife and son Robert. Hugh was the head Forester of the King’s forests restricted for King’s hunting only, where no deer could be shot.

The boy was born in the year of 1160 in the town of Lockesley. Often he was known as Rob of Lockesley. As soon as he could walk, he accompanied his father into the forest. As soon as his arms were strong enough he learned to draw the bow and speed an arrow. During the winter evenings he eagerly listened to the stories about an outlaw, who rampaged through the King’s forests killing the deer told by his father by the fire.

The mother fond of the boy, but not so much of those stories taught her son to read and write in hopes of him becoming a clerk. The boy had the outmost respect for his mother, but he was the happiest in the woods with his bow and arrow.

The kind and caring father had some enemies, who despised him. At the most convenient occasion they convinced the King of Hugh’s deception. He was removed from his post as King’s Forester and arrested for treason.

The mother and the boy, then of 19, sheltered at their only relative. Soon after, the mother’s already failing health and the winter’s journey turned to be too much for her. Her departure from the earthly planes was shortly followed by his father’s, who died in jail awaiting his trial. Losing both parents in such short time crushed the boy. He missed them greatly, his mother’s gentleness and his father’s companionship.

One day, his uncle announced, “How would you like to take a part in an archer’s tournament?” Rob’s eyes twinkled and that was enough for his uncle to know what the answer was.

On his way to Nottingham, he encountered a group of Foresters and the deceitful head Forester, who took his father’s place. Rob would have passed by them without a word if the head Forester didn’t look for trouble, “Look who we have here…the one who claims to be the best archer.” An argument broke between those two resulting in archery fight. Rob’s arrow reached the head Forester first, killing him and making Rob an outlaw at the same time.

He stopped by the cottage of an older woman, he knew well. He learned that her sons became outlaws due to hunger, which forced them to hunt for forbidden deer. He stayed overnight and met with her sons, who announced, “We’re looking for a leader. So we’re heading to the archery tournament to find an outlaw, who can win the competition and become our leader.”

Rob in order to disguise his face wore a hood over his head. He won the tournament and was recognized as “Rob in the hood.”

Later that night, he became the leader of the outlaws of the Sherwood Forest. With a toast he was named “Robin Hood.”

They all swore to, “Take money and goods from the unjust rich, aid and befriend the poor and the helpless, and harm no woman.”

All that summer, Robin Hood and his men roamed in Sherwood Forest gaining fame of their deeds.

The fame of Robin Hood had reached Queen Eleanor in London. The Queen invited him and his four men to London’s tournament to shoot against King Harry’s men, in return promising amnesty for them.

At Finsbury Field, Robin Hood and his men won the King’s tourney, which story had been passed down from father to son, and even unto the present day.

After the death of King Harry, King Richard hearing of Robin Hood’s pranks became an admirer of him and desired to meet him.

Upon meeting the new King, Robin Hood and his men pledged their service to him.

Meanwhile, the fate reconnected Robin Hood and his childhood friend Marian. Her misfortune led her to joining Robin Hood and his men. Shortly after, they were weeded.

Their happiness lasted only five years. Marian was sickened of a plague and died. Robins’ light was gone. After the death of King Richard, the new King waged fierce war upon the outlaws.

Robin Hood and his men left the Sherwood Forest and went into Derbyshire. One of the last stories of him states that an arrow had reached his shoulder. It was all just a scratch, but it left him in fever. Shortly after, the body of Robin Hood had died, but his spirit has lived through the centuries.

Source: ‘Robin Hood’ by J. Walker McSpadden offers many adventures of Robin Hood.

Myth of the 'Glorious City' of Athens

Both Greece and its capital Athens are surrounded by many mythological stories. Long before those lands were called Greece, they were known as Attica.  Almost every town in the ancient Attica had a god or goddess that looked after the townspeople.

One of the goddesses was Athena. She was known as smart, just and talented. Her favorite town in the whole Attica was Athens. She wanted to offer her patronage to its people. But her uncle, Poseidon, wished to do the same. He was the god of the sea. He loved the coastal towns and got very annoyed with Athena that she dared to claim Athens for herself.

The situation worried other gods, who didn’t want any fight between those two. Zeus, father of Athena and brother of Poseidon, announced, “Why don’t you allow the people to decide who should be the patron?” People didn’t want to anger any of the gods by choosing. Instead they asked Zeus to do so. In reply Zeus proclaimed, “Let the best gift, the most beneficial to the city, decide about the patronage.” The confused people looked at each other.

Poseidon not wasting any time struck a rock with his trident causing a spring of water to gush forth from the ground and declared, “Dear people of Athens, my gift assures you with water. Therefore, you wouldn’t have to worry about any drought.”

Impressed people tasted the water, hiding their disappointment. The water was salty and tasted exactly like the sea water.

Now it was Athena’s turn. All eyes fell upon her.

Athena calmly planted a seed in the ground. A twig sprang from the ground. The people robbed their eyes in disbelief. The twig continued to grow upwards, branching outwards; the trunk was getting thicker and thicker. The green leaves started to show on the branches, with flowers blooming among them and at the very end shiny fruits dark in color appeared. Then Athena said, “My dear people, the olive tree will give you food, oil and firewood.”

The people tasted the fruit; impressed in unison loudly acclaimed Athena as their patron.

With time the people so many benefits of the olive tree. Its tasty olives and golden oil provided food, further giving benefits to their skinny skin and long age.

In return people named the town Athens after Athena and built numerous temples dedicated to her. One of them stands proudly atop Acropolis hill.

Temple of Athena at Acropolis 

Acropolis

Legend of Diavolezza Mountain

In the magical mountain range called Alps, within the country of Switzerland, lays a mountain pass called Bernina Pass. The pass is like a bridge connecting many peaks of the Alps. One of those peaks is Diavolezza, which holds a legend.

Once upon a time, high in the Alps, there were enchanting mountains. Its rocky snow-capped peaks and ridges stretched as far as the eye could see. Right below the snowy peaks and before its green slopes a blanket of ice glistened. The slopes below and meadows were dotted with deep-blue lakes sparkling with crystal clear water, with yellow daisies vastly spread among the green pastures shining like the sun above them, and with herds of goat-antelopes grazing on the lush green grass.

In those magnificent mountains lived a beautiful fairy-queen or a she-spirit or some even called her a she-devil. She lived in a stone fortress within the walls of Diavolezza Mountain. A few lucky hunters spotted her shadows galloping above the mountains. Her shadows charmed many of those lucky hunters, who became fascinated and obsessed with her. They followed her, but she was protected by her herd of goat-antelopes.

One of the hunters, who followed her, was a handsome young man named Aratsch. The handsome youth never returned home and the enchanting she-devil was never seen again. Nobody knows what happened to either of them. Some claim to hear the wailing voice of the Diavolezza Mountain on a windy nightfall, calling ‘mort ais Aratsch,’ which means ‘Aratsch is dead.’ Some claim to see the greyish shadow resembling her on the white ice sheet called glacier.