THE FLUTE OF SHORTBOOT
Source
Once upon a time, there was a man and a woman who had been married for fifteen years. However, they did not yet have children. Twenty times a day, the man and woman repeated:
“Good God, give us a son, just a son, even if he is no taller than a boot."
The Good Lord ended up giving them what they asked for. After fifteen years and nine months, the woman gave birth to a child, two spans long, and who would no longer grow one inch. This is why his parents named him Shortboot.
At the age of getting a job, Shortboot was shrewd and wise more than anyone. But no master wanted to bother with this dwarf. Finally, Shortboot found a job as a cowherd, with a sharecropper, as wicked as the Devil, and miserly as a Jew. Bad bread, bad soup, a bed of straw, many beatings, and no wages, such was the fate of the poor valet.
But the dwarf was hopeful and thought:
"Patience! After the rain, the sun."
One day, Shortboot was tending his cows, in a meadow, lying under a willow, on the banks of the Gers. On the other side of the river, he saw a woman barely a span tall, black as the hearth, and old, old as a trail.
“Cowherd,” cried the little old woman, “come and pass me to the other side of the river."
"Brave woman, with pleasure."
Shortboot took off his clothes. Luckily, it was after the harvest. The waters were so low, so low, that the dwarf was not up to his waist.
“Brave woman, you have passed."
"Thank you, cowherd. You will be paid for your service. Take this flute, and do not part with it night or day. Every time you mouth it, the animals and people who hear it will be forced to dance, until it pleases you not to blow anymore."
"Good woman, thank you."
The little old woman left.
Then, Shortboot mouthed his flute. Immediately, the oxen, the cows, and the calves were forced to dance, until it pleased the dwarf not to blow anymore.
A moment later, near a thicket of brambles and blackthorns, the justice of the peace passed an angry and wicked man like a hundred Devils of Hell. Shortboot took off his beret.
“Hello, Mr. Justice of the Peace."
The justice of the peace passed without responding, or even touching his hat.
“Mr. Justice of the Peace, I salute you honestly. You could do the same."
The justice of the peace raised his staff.
Then, Shortboot mouthed his flute. Immediately, the justice of the peace found himself forced to dance. He danced, danced, in the thickest thicket of brambles and blackthorns, which tore his clothes and his flesh. He danced and danced until it pleased the dwarf not to blow anymore.
Shortboot and his cattle returned to the farm. That day, the master and his family feasted: garbure, goose legs, roast turkey, cheese, and good wine.
“Master, a little of these good things, please."
"Off the coast! gourmand. Moldy croutons are too good for you. Off the coast, or you will suffer!"
Then, Shortboot mouthed his flute...
Source: La Flûte de Courtebotte, from the French book Contes populaires de la Gascogne, tome 3, published in 1886
Previous Tale: Grain-of-Millet
Hello, my name is Vincent Celier.
I am writing translations of folk tales that I found in public domain French books, so that people who do not understand French may enjoy them too.
Shortboot ("Courtebotte" in the original French tale) is short, but he is kind, patient, and smart.
Because of his kindness toward a short woman, he got this magic flute.
Let's hope that he will use it only for good.
Yesterday morning, I walked to our grocery store, a Real Canadian Superstore to buy jam, as we were out of it, and I needed jam for my breakfast this morning.
I am always eating the same things for breakfast when I am in Canada. First, I take vitamin B12 (because I am vegan) in a glass of orange juice with lots of pulp. Then I eat toasted monastery rye bread with jam, which I dip in a bowl of warm unsweetened soy milk. The monastery bread, I can find it only in Superstores.
In the afternoon, I went to our local liquor store to buy white wine. I bought two bottles of wine made in British Columbia.
One of the two bottles comes from a winery not far from Vancouver called Chaberton. This winery was created in the 1980s by French winemakers. Their first wines were made in 1991, three years before we immigrated to Canada.
Originally, the winery had a French name: Domaine de Chaberton. In 1995, I visited this winery with my brother Benoit who had come to visit us in the summer.
-- Vincent Celier