Two Fiddlers from Strathspey

Elaster and John were the names of two fiddlers who lived in Strathspey. They were the poorest of the poor. Lately, their luck had been so bad that they decided to head to Inverness. And of course, they set off on foot, not in a gilded carriage. Along the way, they stopped in villages and played their fiddles: sometimes for a few pennies, and other times just for a meal or a place to sleep.

"I hope we'll have better luck in Inverness," said Elaster when they were close to their destination.

"At least it can't get any worse," said John, looking sadly at his rags and the big toe sticking out of his shoe.

But unfortunately, luck was not waiting for them in Inverness. By the time they finally reached the city, winter had set in, and the ground was buried under high snowdrifts. The fiddlers took out their violins and began to play a lively jig. But there was no one on the streets to listen. The good people of Inverness had all retreated to their homes to warm themselves by their hearths.

"We're wasting our time," sighed John. "Put the fiddles away and let's find somewhere to shelter from this biting wind."

At that moment, an old man emerged from the darkness of the deserted street.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he said in a creaky voice. "You wouldn't happen to be musicians, would you?"

"That we are," replied Elaster. "But on a night like this, all our music is just carried away by the wind."

"Wind in our pockets, wind in our stomachs," added John. "In short, we're miserable fiddlers."

"If you agree to play for me, I'll fill both your stomachs and your pockets," said the old man.

Before he could finish, John and Elaster had already raised their fiddles to their chins and...

They could never have dreamed of such a fortunate encounter!

"No, no," the old man stopped them, placing a hand on Elaster's shoulder. "Not here. Follow me."

"Strange old man," John whispered to his friend.

"Well, if he says to follow him, then we follow him," replied Elaster. And the old man set off, with the fiddlers trailing behind.

They made their way to the Tomnahurich Hill. When they reached the middle of the hill, the old man stopped in front of a large house. From the street, it seemed deserted. There was no light, and a dead silence hung over the place. The old man climbed the steps to a massive door, and before he could even knock, the door silently swung open.

The fiddlers froze in place and exchanged astonished glances. John felt uneasy and was ready to run for his life, but Elaster reminded him that warmth and a good dinner awaited them inside.

Irritated by the delay, the old man turned to the two friends and sternly told them to hurry up if they didn't intend to break their agreement. As soon as the fiddlers crossed the threshold of the strange house, the door silently closed behind them. Finally, they saw light and heard noise, shouts, and laughter. The old man led them through another door, and they found themselves in a luxurious ballroom of unparalleled beauty.

In the corner stood a long table laden with exotic dishes. Just the sight of them made John and Elaster's mouths water.

Sitting at the table were beautiful ladies and gentlemen, dressed in silk and satin, adorned with lace and jewels.

"Sit down and eat without hesitation," the hospitable old man invited his friends.

But the fiddlers didn't need much urging. It had been a long time since they'd eaten so well and drunk so much! When they had eaten and drunk their fill, John suddenly noticed that the old man had disappeared somewhere. He mentioned this to his friend, who replied:

"To be honest, I didn't see him leave the hall, but nothing in this strange house can surprise me anymore. Get up, John, grab your fiddle, and let's play in gratitude for such a wonderful dinner."

The fiddlers began to play, and the elegantly dressed gentlemen and ladies started to dance. The faster the bows flew through the air, the faster the dancers twirled. No one seemed to tire. Elaster and John thought they had been playing for only half an hour when suddenly the old man reappeared in the hall, as unexpectedly as he had vanished.

"Enough playing!" he commanded. "Dawn is near. It's time for you to go."

With these words, he handed each fiddler a bag of gold.

"But we played for such a short time and didn't even get tired. Why are you giving us so much money?" asked the honest John.

"Take it and go," the old man replied curtly. The young men obediently took the money and left, very pleased with their luck.

Elaster was the first to notice the strange changes in their surroundings when they were close to the city.

"Where did these new houses come from?" he wondered. "I swear there was an empty lot here last night."

"It was dark last night," replied John. "You might not have noticed them. Besides, these houses don't seem all that new to me."

"Did you see this bridge yesterday?" asked Elaster.

"Not sure," John answered uncertainly.

"If it had been here yesterday, we would have crossed it, right?"

John began to have doubts. Everything now seemed different from the day before. He decided to ask a passerby to confirm where they were. But the first person they met was a strangely dressed gentleman, and when John asked him about the bridge and the houses, he laughed and said they had been there for a very long time. As he bid them farewell, he laughed again and remarked:

"What a peculiar pair you are! Are you coming from a costume ball in those funny old-fashioned clothes?"

Of course, their clothes weren't new, but what was so funny about that? John and Elaster thought it rude to laugh at their clothes when the passerby himself was dressed so absurdly. However, once they were on the city streets, they noticed that all the men, women, and children were dressed just as strangely. The shops displayed unfamiliar, bizarre clothing. Even the way people spoke had a strange, unfamiliar accent. And the fiddlers themselves were laughed at whenever they asked anyone questions. Everyone seemed to stare at them in surprise.

"Let's go back to Strathspey," suggested Elaster.

"Well, there's nothing keeping us here," agreed John. "And I don't much like the people here. They treat us like clowns."

And so the friends turned back to Strathspey. This time, they traveled on horseback—they had plenty of money and could pay for lodging, meals, and wine.

And now they played their fiddles only for their own pleasure.

But when they reached their hometown, they hardly recognized it. Everything had changed: the streets, the houses, the bridges, the people—everything.

They stopped by a farmer's house for milk, only to find that he had a new wife. At least, they didn't recognize her, and she didn't recognize them. The children playing in front of the school didn't greet them or run up to them as they usually did. Even the school itself had changed, as if it had grown larger and had its roof repainted.

Then they hurried to their best friend James, the local blacksmith, to tell him about their good fortune and to ask why everything in their beloved Strathspey had changed so much and how their mutual friends were doing.

But the blacksmith turned out to be a complete stranger, someone they had never seen before, and he had never even heard of their friends.

Thoroughly alarmed, the young men headed to the church, hoping to find someone they knew and ask what had happened. But the church, too, was no longer the small, modest building they remembered. It had grown larger and richer, though the cemetery beside it remained unchanged.

They opened the gate and walked along the path between the graves. Suddenly, Elaster grabbed John by the sleeve.

"No wonder we didn't find the blacksmith James at home!" he exclaimed. "Here's his grave."

Unable to believe his eyes, John carefully read the inscription on the tombstone.

"But this is impossible!" he said. "When we left Strathspey three weeks ago, James was just over twenty years old, like us, and here it says he died at the age of ninety-three."

The fiddler friends glanced at the other graves. All their acquaintances were already buried here.

"Now I understand!" exclaimed Elaster. "Back in Inverness, we were playing for beautiful fairies and their merry cavaliers, and that old man must have been their king!" He added sadly, "Ah, we played there for too long. Far too long..."

Yes, that's how it goes: it feels like you've spent only half an hour in the land of the fairies, but when you return to your homeland, you don't recognize anyone—some have grown old, and others are already gone.

Time flies on wings in that merry, eternally youthful magical land.

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Two Fiddlers from Strathspey

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