THE MONSTER
Seniai, labai seniai -- dar
tankiosios Lietuvos girios kirvio nepažinojo -- puikiosios Neries ir
srauniosios Vilnios krantuose, tarp šimtamečių ąžuolų, dunksojo
nedidelis kaimelis…………
English Translation by Gloria O’Brien
Long, long ago -
They were not attracted by
foreign lands. Far more than the gold
and silver those travelers talked about, the villagers valued the crystal
visage of the splendid Neris, their green meadows, and lush ancient forests,
where the song of wonderful birds was heard by day and night.
Within those woods, the
dark bear had his lair; the mighty aurochs stole silently through the shade of
thick old oaks; and elegant deer dashed back and forth. From those forests the villagers gathered as
much as they needed of berries
and mushrooms, got animal
skins to cover themselves, and sweetened their lives with honey from the bees
that had made their hives in the linden trees.
The Neris and Vilnija could yield more fish than they required. Striking other stones with the sharper flint,
they made tools and weapons, perhaps not so very fine-looking, but necessary
and useful. They easily satisfied all
their modest needs, and were happy in their homes. In gratitude to the gods they built altars in
their honor, where they tended a sacred fire and offered generous sacrifices.
Everything was simple and
ordinary, including life, love and death.
Once in a while, a brave, sturdy, broad-shouldered young man went out
hunting and never
returned, having died in a
bear’s powerful embrace, or on the proud horns of an aurochs. Some found their place of eternal rest at the
bottom of the golden Neris; and still others, under a fallen oak. These were simple and ordinary incidents.
But these peace-loving
inhabitants of the Neris and Vilnija shores must have irritated their good gods
in some way. Perhaps they allowed the
holy fire to
go out, or perhaps their
sacrificial animals weren’t fine enough, or perhaps a vaidilutė broke her vows of chastity ……. Whatever the reason, the gods in their wrath
sent them a terrible misfortune.
In a dank cave near some
tall hillocks on the banks of the Vilnija, there suddenly
came out of nowhere, a
horror they had never before seen nor imagined
- a
monstrous dragon. No one was able to describe its appearance,
as anyone who dared to approach the cave was immediately killed by the
monster’s glance, then eaten. In the dark of the night, when only the stars
in the sky could be seen, two dim lights glittered at the cave’s entrance: the monster’s eyes. With its head thrust out of the cave, it
searched for victims to be dispatched by its deadly gaze.
A careless hunter would
disappear, having come too close to the cave in his pursuit of game; an
innocent girl and boy, searching for berries and flowers, would never come
home. Caught in the monster’s mortal
gaze, its victims grew numb and fell as though struck by lightning. And then, the dragon would swallow
them. It was apparently all the same to this
monster, whether its victims were old or
young, but it seemed to search out the innocent maiden. Many families lamented the loss of parents,
many young men mourned their betrothed, and many mothers wept for their
children, but the creature continued to claim new victims. The gods were petitioned with prayers and
sacrifices, and even one
maiden was buried alive as
a special offering. All to no
avail. The little village
was gripped by an
unspeakable sadness and fear.
The vaidilas and elders
gathered in a small clearing surrounded by ancient oaks.
They needed a way to kill
the terrible monster and save themselves.
Some said they should build a high wall from the thickest tree trunks
and in that way separate the cave from the village. Others thought they should build a huge fire
at the mouth of the cave. All sorts of
suggestions were made, but none of them were workable, as it was impossible to
approach the cave without being caught in the monster’s gaze. Their talk was overheard by a young man:
tall, with long blond hair, a light brown mustache adorning his lips and smile,
bright features and deep dark eyes, he was the very symbol of masculine
beauty. When he drew his heavy-laden
fishing nets from the Neris, many village maidens watched him in
admiration. Several felt a secret love
for him, and wished they could get his attention, even going so far as to
consult a sorceress in the hope of gaining his affection. But he remained indifferent to all of them,
as he had already set his heart on the beautiful Uogelė, young like
the newly sprouted rue, bright as dawn
in May, the very best and
sweetest of the village maidens. Uogelė returned his
love.
They often sat on the
banks of the Neris, bathed in the soft light of the moon, listening to the song
of the nightingale, and dreaming about a happy future. The young man (let us
call him Šaunuolis) had begun to build a
cottage, where everything had to be the best and most beautiful. He did not begrudge the hard work needed to
gather the many skins of bear, wolf and lynx with which he planned to furnish
the cottage. He and his lovely Uogelė planned to marry and start family life as soon as
he had finished building their future home.
It was just at that time
that the dragon took up residence in the nearby cave, and since the unhappy
villagers could expect no help from elsewhere, Šaunuolis decided he would try to kill the terrible
monster. Though well aware of the danger
to his own life, he reasoned that, if he was successful, he would save the life
of his own dear girl. He feared that the
same fate awaited Uogelė, as had already taken
some of her friends, and this thought gave him will and courage. Careful by nature and experienced in fighting
predatory beasts, he gave much thought
to how he could dispatch the monster without endangering himself. He offered numerous sacrifices and prayers to
the gods, and finally thought of a way
to approach the dragon.
Šaunuolis had heard more than
once, that in faraway lands, some people made use of a well-polished plate of
fine metal, which would reflect the image of one standing before it. It was said that the image thus shown was
even clearer and truer than that seen in clear standing water. He had heard that people referred to these as
“veidrodžiai” (mirrors, literally, “face-displayers”). Šaunuolis
resolved, at any cost, to obtain such an item.
Taking leave of his dear Uogelė, he
set off on his quest. His journey was
difficult and dangerous. He passed
through great forests and waded through deep swamps. He knew hunger and fear, was beset by forest
spirits by night and enticed by undines at lakesides. He passed more than one sleepless night,
hidden from predators in the thick branches of a tree. More than once, he collapsed in exhaustion,
partly from the weight of the many fine furs he carried, hoping to trade them
for a “veidrodį”. But finally, he overcame all obstacles and
returned to his home with his treasure.
Šaunuolis told no one about his
plan, didn’t show them his mirror. Only Uogelė
knew what he intended, and
though she trembled in fear for him, she didn’t dare oppose him. She only swore to herself, that if he should
die, then she herself would follow him: let the dragon swallow her as well.
And the day arrived, when Šaunuolis was to carry out his plan. No sooner had the dawn painted a corner of
the sky, than he took the mirror and resolutely made his way toward the
cave. The road leading from the Vilnija
went straight up the hill, was overgrown with shrubs and sown with rocks and
pebbles. Soon, a sulphurous and putrid
smell assailed his nostrils, and he tripped over some round object, which then
rolled away from his feet. Washed by
rains and bleached white by the sun, it was a
human skull. He realized he was close to
his goal, and once again, thought about his plan and how he should bring it
about, rehearsing all in his mind. Under
cover of bushes and large rocks, he slowly and carefully went closer and closer
to the cave. The odor of sulphur and
putrefying human remains increased, and he saw a few more skulls and other
human bones lying amongst the bushes.
Here he heard a strange
sound, like the bubbling of boiling water.
He stopped and peered from around a large boulder, and saw something so
horrid that he almost cried out in fear, and barely stopped himself from
dropping his precious mirror. At the
entrance to the dark cave lay the terrible creature, with the head of a toad
and immense jaws, from which protruded large, forked fangs. Its color was dark green, like a huge lizard,
and its backside and tail vanished into the darkness of the cave. And under its outstretched front paws lay the
bloody and terribly mutilated body of a young girl. Only her head had not been touched, and
her face and large,
staring eyes bore witness to the terror she had felt at her impending
death.
The monster was asleep;
thick, bloated lids covered its dreadful eyes.
Its deep snorts and load snores blew out stinking smoke, fouling the air
all around. It must have felt the
presence of a living thing, as it suddenly moved, stretched and raised its
eyelids, uncovering its glittering, lethal gaze.
This was the moment our
brave young man had waited for, and, holding the mirror in front of himself, Šaunuolis quickly leaped from his hiding place. The monster, surprised, stretched up on its
front legs and sent his mortal look at the mirror. Almost at once, it let out a screeching howl,
stretched, convulsed, and, leaping toward the young man, fell at his feet. Moments later, a putrid stream of pitch oozed
from its jaws. The dragon was dead,
killed by its own weapon – its own glance, thrown back at it by the mirror.
At that moment, over the
treetops burst the sun, bright as if washed by the morning dew, spreading its
golden rays over heaven and earth.
Šaunuolis grasped the hunting horn
that hung over his shoulder, and sent a joyous note of victory over the
fragrant morning air. It repeated and
repeated, sounded ever more loudly, echoing through and around the vicinity,
until it reached the ears of the sleeping villagers, calling them from their uneasy
dreams. Everyone stirred, and ran from
their homes, certain that something extraordinary had occurred. They saw Uogelė flying towards the hill where the monster lived and
waited for his victims. They heard her
shout and all followed after her. Just a
few moments later, the crowd returned to the village, carrying their deliverer
on their shoulders, with joyful voices praising his courage, self-sacrifice and
intelligence.
At the summit of the hill,
near the cave where the dragon lived, a square stone tower was erected in honor
of the young man, and today’s Bokšto Gatvė (
Source:
compiled
by Stasys Lipskis and published by “Žuvėdra”
in
© English
Translation - Gloria O’Brien 2006