THE GIANT GOULAFFRE
The bread seekers.
There once was a poor woman widow with a son. Every day, the mother and her son went begging from door to door, in farms and manors, collecting here a piece of barley bread, further away a buckwheat pancake, elsewhere a few potatoes; and they thus lived on the charity of good souls. The child was called Allanic, and his mother was Godic or Marguerite. When Allanic had reached the age of fourteen or fifteen, as he was vigorous and healthy, and nevertheless continued to beg with his mother, the peasants often said to her:
"It is high time, Marguerite, that this fellow also works to earn his bread; you've fed him long enough to do nothing, now it's his turn to help you too. See how strong and healthy he is! Are you not ashamed, lazy fellow, to remain in charge of your old mother?"
Every day there were similar reprimands, and every day they came home in the evening with their bags lighter. When Allanic saw this, he said to his mother:
"I want to go to France, Mother, to try to earn my living and to help you in my turn."
Godic felt sorrow at his son's resolution, but she nevertheless understood that she could not keep him forever, and did not oppose his departure.
So Allanic left one fine spring morning, carrying, at the end of a stick, a rye loaf of bread, with six crepes, and very proud to have in his pocket six reales (one franc fifty) that his mother had given him. He was going on an adventure, by the grace of God. Around noon, he noticed on the side of the road that he was following a fountain with fresh, clear water, shaded by a clump of trees. He stopped there to rest a little, eat a piece of bread with a crepe, then continue on his way. While he was enjoying his frugal meal, sitting in the shade, another traveler who seemed hardly richer than him, also approached the fountain to quench his thirst. Allanic offered him a crepe; they entered into conversation and quickly became friends.
"Where are you going like this, comrade?" Allanic told him.
"Well, I'm going ahead, and I don't know much more. And you?"
"I'm going to France to try to earn my living."
"Well, let's travel together if you want?"
"I couldn't ask for anything better. What job do you do?"
"I am a dancer, and my name is Fistilou."
"Wonderful, because I am a musician and my name is Allanic."
"But what instrument do you play? because I don't see any."
"Oh! My instrument does not cost much, and I will find one at my discretion. Hey, here’s a field full of them. So many straws, two or three times as many instruments."
"What do you mean? You're probably joking."
"I'm not joking, and I'm going to prove it to you right now."
And jumping over the fence into a field of rye that was nearby, Allanic cut a stalk of rye with his knife, and in an instant, he had made a reed, similar to those we see with the little shepherds, in spring; and he began to play it with unusual skill and talent. Fistilou, upon hearing it, began to dance, frolic, and throw his hat in the air, shouting: Yeh! yow! hoo! hoo! like the Cornish people. And here they are, the best friends in the world, continuing their journey, running, laughing, and dreaming of abundant gains.
Source: Le Géant Goulaffre from the French book Contes et légendes de Basse-Bretagne published in 1891.
Previous Tale: God's Will
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.
This tale has been written by a different Author: François-Marie Luzel, who also went by his Breton name: Fañch an Uhel.
As implied by the title, there will be another giant in the tale, but we don't see him in this first part.
I just failed another of my resolutions for 2024.
Yesterday, I failed to power up one Hive, as I should do every day, to get the Power Up Month badge for January 2024.
I should be more careful in the future.
Today's temperature is still -14°C here. But it is warming up. In the afternoon, it will go up to -8°C. And next night the minimum will be -11°C.
-- Vincent Celier