The Enchanted Little Mill

Translated from Lithuanian by Gloria O’Brien

Gyveno du broliai.  Vienas buvo labai turtingas, o kitas visiškai vargšas ir vaikščiojo apiplyšęs.

Once there were two brothers.  One was very rich, and the other, so poor that he went about in torn clothing.  It was most unpleasant for the rich man to have such a brother,  and embarrassing to be seen with someone who looked like a beggar.  He decided to get rid of this inconvenience.

He heard that somewhere, far away, there was an abyss at the very edge of the world, where devils lived.  Calling his brother to him, he said, “I am indebted to some devils for a large smoked ham, so take this to them for me”.    The poor fellow took the ham, and left on his errand.  His journey was long and difficult, through bogs, swamps and dense woods.  As he went, he came upon an old man cutting firewood.  Approaching the man, he said, “Grandfather, surely this job is too hard for a man of your years.  Here, let me help you.”  And he took the axe and chopped up all the firewood.

The old man thanked him and said, “I know, my boy, who has sent you, and where you are going.  When you get there, you will be surrounded by many devils, who will want you to sell them that smoked ham.  You must answer that you cannot sell it, but that you will exchange it for the little mill that stands on their window-sill.”

And it happened just as the old man said.  No sooner had he entered the abyss, when he was surrounded by devils entreating him to sell the ham to them.  He obeyed the old man’s instructions, and though the devils at first refused to part with their little mill, they finally agreed to give it in exchange for the ham.  So he took the mill, left the ham, and hurried home away from the abyss.  The devils quickly ate the ham, and decided to chase after him to retrieve their mill, but he was truly gone, his very footprints had frozen.

He met the old man on his way back, and asked, “What shall I do with this mill?” The old man answered, “This is a very good thing to have.  Whatever you desire, this little mill will grind it out for you.”  And he told him how to use it.  He thanked the old man and went home happy.

When he got home, he decided to use the mill to grind out some money.  He just pressed a spot as the old man had instructed, and golden coins began to pour out.  He stood a large bag under the spout, and it was soon bursting with money.  Again, he pressed, a different spot, and the mill stopped. 

In this way, he accumulated piles and piles of money, until he became a very rich man.  Eventually he grew tired of the mill and left it standing on a window-sill.  His brother, no longer wealthier than he, noticed the mill and begged his brother to give it to him.  And he did, showing him how to press the spot that would start it up, but forgetting to tell him how to stop it. 

This  brother was very fond of herring, and when he got home, he asked the mill to make him some herrings.  Before he knew it, the mill had ground out so much herring, that the house was full to bursting with them.  Frightened, he brought the mill back to his brother, who stopped it and set it back on his window-sill.

Eventually, a group of fishermen heard about the little mill.  These men always needed a lot of salt, to preserve their catch.  They came to see the mill, and asked that it be sold to them.  They came to an agreement, the mill was sold to them, and they were shown how to start it, but again, instructions for stopping it weren’t given.  They set out on a fishing trip, taking the mill with them.  They set it down in a convenient place, and started it to make salt.  The little mill produced so much salt, that the ship couldn’t hold it, and sank to the bottom of the sea.  That little mill still lies at the ocean’s bottom, grinding away making salt until this day.  And that’s why seawater is salty.

 

Source:
From “Lietuviškos Pasakos”  -   “Lithuanian Fairy-tales”
Compiled by Dr. Jonas Balys
Published in 1951 by the Lithuanian Book Club, Chicago

© English Translation - Gloria O’Brien  2004

This article was printed in Bridges Nov 2004

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