Făt-Frumos and the Sun

Long ago, or perhaps not so long ago—I cannot say for certain—a great calamity befell the land: the Sun disappeared from the earth. An impenetrable night fell, dark and unending. There was no light, no warmth. Forests and fields began to wither, and with them, the animals and birds perished.

People said that dragons had stolen the Sun. But where they had hidden it, no one knew. And the poor people suffered in the darkness—oh, how they suffered! Now, in those times, on the edge of a dense forest, by the banks of a mighty river, there lived a husband and wife in a ramshackle hut. They were very poor: no meat or salt in the house, no birds or livestock in the yard. They barely scraped by, living from hand to mouth. The man was hardworking, handsome, and a good family man. He had traveled far and wide across the kingdom, searching for work. He was ready to squeeze water from a stone, just so he wouldn’t return home empty-handed.

But then a rumor began to spread that it might be possible to rescue the Sun from captivity. People started whispering about it, encouraging one another. For if the Sun could be saved and returned to the sky, the earth would once again be bright and bountiful. Meadows would turn green, fields would yield ripe grain—just in time for harvest! Life would become free and prosperous for the people.

And so, about thirty or maybe forty people gathered, including the man who lived on the edge of the forest, and they decided to go and free the Sun from its prison and return it to the sky.

The man’s wife wept bitterly and begged him not to leave her all alone. But she could not persuade him. The louder she wailed, the more determined he became. The man left home and was never seen again. And the others who went with him vanished as if they had sunk into the water.

Not long after the man had left, his wife gave birth to a son, a plump little strong boy.

She named him Ion, affectionately calling him Ionichie. She also called him a handsome lad—Fat-Frumos. And so he became Ionichie Fat-Frumos. Ionichie Fat-Frumos grew not by the day, but by the hour. In a single day, he grew as much as others did in a year. A week passed, and he was already working: crafting one thing, then another. But soon he realized that no matter how hard he tried, it was all in vain—a poor man could never escape poverty. And so one day he asked his mother:

"Tell me, mother, what did my father do? Maybe I’ll do the same, and we’ll live better."

"My dear son, I remember that he never had a moment’s rest: he toiled all his life at various jobs, but we never saw any prosperity in our home."

"And where did he disappear to?"

"Oh, my sorrow, my dear son! It would be better if you didn’t ask!" his mother wailed and began to weep bitterly.

When she calmed down, she confessed to her son:

"I’m afraid to tell you, lest you follow in your father’s footsteps."

"Tell me, mother, tell me!" Seeing that it was time for her son to know the truth, she began to pour out her heart:

"We’ve always lived in poverty, barely scraping by. And when the Sun disappeared, things got even worse. Then a rumor reached us that some evil force had locked the Sun away in a dungeon. People gathered and set out to find the Sun. Your father went with them. And since then, there’s been no word of him."

The son learned of his father’s bitter fate and was filled with sorrow; his mother’s tears weighed heavily on him.

From that day on, a burning desire ignited in his heart—to go and search for the Sun. He could think of nothing else; the Sun was on his mind day and night, in his dreams and in his waking hours. He composed a song and sang it wherever he went:

"Day and night, endless gloom,
No light, no warmth, no bloom.
When I grow, I’ll set out,
Find the wondrous Sun, no doubt.
I’ll shatter the prison’s hold,
Release the Sun, bright and bold.
Let its warmth and light bestow,
For many years, let it glow.
Let the fields in splendor grow,
Bringing joy to hearts below."

One day, as the Black King—who ruled that land—was passing by the poor woman’s house, he heard her son singing. The king ordered his horses to stop and listened to the song. He listened from beginning to end, then commanded his coachman:

"Quick, go and bring the singer to me." The coachman jumped down from his seat and shouted:

"Hey, you there! Wait!"
"I’m here!"
Groping their way, the royal coachman and Făt-Frumos bumped into each other. While they were making their way to the carriage, the king sat and thought: "I have everything in abundance, whatever my heart desires. But if I also had the Sun, there would be no equal to me in the world."

"Here is the king, kneel down!" said the coachman, leading Ion to the royal carriage.

"Who are you?" asked the king.

"The son of a poor man," answered the boy. By his voice, the king guessed he was no more than twelve or thirteen years old.

"Who taught you that song?"

"I made it up myself—I sing it myself. When I grow up, I will free the Sun from its deep dungeon."

"What is your name, boy?"

"Ion Făt-Frumos."

"And where do your parents live?"

"I have no father, and my mother and I live on the edge of the forest, not far from here; but it's not a life, just sorrow."

"Listen," said the king, "if you know where the Sun is locked up, come live with me in the palace; I will feed and raise you. And when you feel strong enough, I will give you a good horse and money for the road, but on the condition that you bring me the Sun with all its light and warmth."

"Most radiant king, if you wish for me to follow you to the palace, command that my mother be brought as well. Otherwise, her heart will wither from grief and sorrow as she searches for me on all the roads and paths."

"Well, so be it," said the king and ordered the coachman to fetch Ion's mother.

She came, bid farewell to her son, but did not go to the palace—she did not want to leave her home.

And so Ion began to live at the royal court. Soon he felt such great strength within him that he could crush stones into powder with his hand! Then he declared that he would go to free the Sun and asked the king to equip him for the journey. The king said:

"Choose a horse from the stable to your liking, a saber, and a club, and set off." Făt-Frumos took a bridle embroidered with silver and went to choose a horse to his liking. He walked around the entire stable, but not a single horse allowed itself to be bridled. And then, in the darkest corner, he saw another horse. A skinny nag—just skin and bones, barely standing on its feet. But it noticed Făt-Frumos and reached for the bridle.

"Whoa... you miserable nag, you're not the one I'm looking for!" Făt-Frumos walked around the stable again, and again not a single horse allowed itself to be bridled; only the nag from the dark corner stretched its head toward the bridle.

"Well, what can I do," decided Ion Făt-Frumos, and he bridled the nag. The horse felt the bridle, shook itself three times, and suddenly turned from a wretched nag into a splendid steed. And when it felt the saddle on its back and a rider in the saddle, it spoke in a human voice:

"Tell me, master, how shall I carry you? If you wish, I will spread like the wind; if you wish, I will fly like a thought."

"Do not spread like the wind, do not fly like a thought, but carry me as befits a fine young man."

The horse set off at a trot, and the ground trembled under its hooves. They galloped over high mountains and through wide valleys until they reached a forge. Făt-Frumos shouted to the blacksmith:

"Blacksmith, blacksmith, master craftsman, forge me a fine club, not too small, not too large, but just right for my strength, and make hinges and bolts for the door so that the forge can be locked tightly, and no one can enter or peek inside."

"Alright, traveler, while your horse rests a bit, I will do everything."
- I will ride on, and you do as I ordered. When I return, everything must be ready. Take the money in advance and do everything properly. And make sure to reinforce the doors with tempered rivets.

The blacksmith set to work, while Făt-Frumos spurred his horse and rode on.

He rode and rode, for a long or short time, and decided to rest by a bridge. So Făt-Frumos lay by the roadside and suddenly heard the sound of hooves on the other side of the bridge. A stranger's horse stepped onto the bridge—and snorted, backing away. The rider whipped it and shouted:

- Ah, you worthless nag! May you lose your mane, may the wolves tear you apart, may your bones rot in the ground! When I paid good money for you, didn’t you boast that you feared no one in the world except Făt-Frumos?

Făt-Frumos jumped up and said:

- Enough of your barking, dragon! I am Făt-Frumos.

The rider heard him, laughed loudly, and even the surrounding mountains shook:

- Ha-ha-ha! Listen to this foolish youth! Do you know that you’re not facing an ordinary dragon, but Evening the Giant, the thief of the Sun? And you dare stand in my way?! Well then, come closer and tell me—do you want to fight with sabers or wrestle with belts?

Făt-Frumos did not falter and replied to the giant:

- Let’s wrestle with belts. Wrestling is fairer.

Evening the Giant rushed at Făt-Frumos, grabbed him by the belt, lifted him above his head, and threw him with such force that Făt-Frumos sank into the ground up to his ankles. But Făt-Frumos jumped up, grabbed the giant by the belt, threw him, and drove him into the ground up to his knees. The enraged Evening the Giant rose and threw Făt-Frumos with such force that he sank into the ground up to his waist. But Făt-Frumos broke free, grabbed the giant in fury, and drove him into the ground up to his neck. Then he drew his saber and cut off Evening the Giant’s head, and struck his horse with a club, turning it to dust.

Făt-Frumos rested, gathered his strength, mounted his horse, and rode on. He rode and rode on his swift horse until he reached a second bridge and decided to rest again. He sat by the roadside and sang:

Day and night, endless gloom,
No light, no warmth to consume.
I’ve walked every path, every way,
If only I could find the Sun’s ray.

I’ll shatter the prison’s hold,
Release the Sun, bright and bold,
Let its warmth and light bestow,
For many years to help us grow.
May fields bloom, hearts rejoice,
As the Sun returns its voice.

As he sang his song, suddenly—clip-clop!—he heard the sound of hooves on the other side of the bridge. As the stranger’s horse approached the bridge, it snorted and backed away. The rider whipped it and shouted:

- Forward, you cowardly nag! May you lose your mane, may the wolves tear you apart, may your bones rot in the ground! When I paid good money for you, didn’t you boast that you feared no one in the world except Făt-Frumos?

Făt-Frumos jumped up and said:

- Enough of your barking, dragon! I am Făt-Frumos!

The rider dismounted, mocking and taunting:

- Ha-ha-ha, listen to this foolish youth! He calls me a mere dragon and doesn’t know that he’s facing Night the Giant. One breath from me, and the whole earth falls asleep. Well, if you’re so brave, come closer and tell me—do you want to fight with sabers or wrestle with belts?

Făt-Frumos did not falter and replied to Night the Giant:

- Let’s wrestle. Wrestling is fairer.

Night the Giant grabbed Făt-Frumos by the belt and threw him with such force that he sank into the ground up to his ankles. Făt-Frumos jumped up, grabbed the giant by the belt, and drove him into the ground up to his knees. The enraged giant rose and threw Făt-Frumos with such force that he sank into the ground up to his waist. But Făt-Frumos broke free, grabbed Night the Giant in fury by the belt, and drove him into the ground up to his neck.

Then he drew his saber and cut off his head, and struck his horse with a club, turning it to dust.

Făt-Frumos rested, felt his strength return, mounted his horse, and rode on.

He rode and rode—over mountains, valleys, ravines, and hills, crossed high mountains with sharp peaks, reached a third bridge, and again decided to rest. He lay by the roadside and sang:

Day and night, endless gloom,
No light, no warmth to consume.
I’ve walked every path, every way,
If only I could find the Sun’s ray.

I’ll shatter the prison’s hold,
Release the Sun, bright and bold,
Let its warmth and light bestow,
For many years to help us grow.
May fields bloom, hearts rejoice,
As the Sun returns its voice.

Just as he finished his song, he heard the sound of hooves on the other side of the bridge. As the horse approached the bridge, it snorted and backed away. The rider whipped it and shouted:

- Ah, you wretched nag! May you lose your mane, may the wolves tear you apart, may your bones rot in the ground! When I paid good money for you, didn’t you boast that you feared no one in the world except Făt-Frumos?

Făt-Frumos heard the rider cracking his whip and cursing, stepped out to meet him, and said:
- Enough of your barking, dragon! I am Făt-Frumos. The rider dismounted from his horse, approached Făt-Frumos, and boasted:
- Ha-ha-ha! What a fool: you mistook me for an ordinary dragon! I am Midnight the Giant. When I walk the earth, everyone sleeps, and no one dares open their eyes! If you're so brave, tell me what you want: to fight with sabers or to wrestle with belts?

Ionică Făt-Frumos did not falter and replied to Midnight the Giant:
- Let's wrestle. Wrestling is fairer.

Midnight the Giant grabbed Ion Făt-Frumos, lifted him, and threw him so hard that he sank into the ground up to his ankles. Then Ion Făt-Frumos seized the giant and drove him into the ground up to his knees. The enraged Midnight the Giant jumped up and hurled Ion Făt-Frumos, burying him up to his waist. Făt-Frumos rose, grabbed the giant in anger, and tossed him so high that he fell and also sank into the ground up to his waist.

Făt-Frumos wanted to cut off his head, but Midnight the Giant broke free from the ground and charged at him with a saber. They fought and fought until, exhausted, they collapsed in opposite directions.

Suddenly, an eagle began circling above them. The giant saw it and shouted:
- My eagle, my eaglet, sprinkle me with water so that my strength may return! For your kindness, I will repay you with kindness: I will give you food.

Ion Făt-Frumos also begged the eagle:
- My eagle, my eaglet, sprinkle me with water so that my strength may return! I will light the Sun in the sky. It will illuminate and warm the vast lands over which your wings carry you.

The eagle swooped down, found water, dipped its wings into it, filled its beak, and flew like an arrow to Ion Făt-Frumos. It flapped its wet wings over him, then gave him water from its beak. Ion Făt-Frumos jumped up and felt unprecedented strength within him. With one blow, he split the giant from top to bottom, and his horse as well. Then Făt-Frumos mounted his horse and galloped forward.

He arrived at a tall castle, released his horse, spun on one foot, and turned into a golden rooster with a red comb. The rooster flapped its wings, crowed, and turned into a fly. The fly buzzed and flew to the castle of the witch Pojarăica. Ion reached the castle, tried the door, the window, and under the roof—everything was locked, with no way in. He flew up to the roof and entered the castle through the chimney. He flew around the rooms and hid in a corner.

Făt-Frumos saw a table in the room with various dishes and drinks. Around the table sat four women: three younger ones and an ancient old woman. Făt-Frumos heard the old woman say:
- My daughters-in-law, my beauties, why do you all gaze into the distance and grieve? Your husbands will return soon, and it will not go well if they find you tearful and sad. Tell me something instead, and time will pass unnoticed. Let's start with you, wife of Evening the Giant.

The wife of Evening the Giant began clearing the table and spoke:
- My husband is so strong that if he meets that wretched Ion, he will blow and bury him in the ground. Ion will never escape.

Next spoke another, undoubtedly the wife of Night the Giant—she was as black as tar, with only her teeth and eyes gleaming:
- And my husband is so strong that if he meets that wretched Ion and blows, Ion will fly to the ends of the earth like a corn leaf.

Then the third, the most terrifying and ugly, with iron claws on her feet and a steel knife at her belt, spoke:
- And my Midnight the Giant has such strength that if he meets that wretched Ion, my husband will turn him to dust with one blow and scatter him to the wind, leaving no trace of Ion.

- Enough of your boasting. Ion is no weakling either. If he encounters any of my sons on his journey, they will have to fight harder than with any other hero.

- Don't call that scoundrel a hero!—interrupted the wife of Evening the Giant.—If anything happens to my husband, I will deal with him myself. I will turn into a well of cool water, and if Ion drinks even a drop, only ashes will remain of him.

- And I can turn into an apple tree,—hurried to say the wife of Night the Giant,—if Ion bites an apple, he will immediately be poisoned.

- And if my husband suffers such harm,—said the wife of Midnight the Giant,—wherever that wretched Ion goes, I will meet him as a grapevine. If he tastes one berry, he will drop dead.

- You're boasting again! You know, my dears, nothing good comes from bragging. Better go to the dungeon and check if the Sun is still there.

The daughters-in-law of Pojarăica left the room, and Făt-Frumos followed them as a fly. They descended into the dungeon, and Făt-Frumos followed. He heard the clinking of keys, the rattling of bolts, and the opening of an iron door. In the darkness, Ion saw a thin, faint ray of light.
Here it is, the Sun! It will never escape from here," said the wife of the Midnight Giant.

The sisters-in-law slammed the iron door shut, rattled the keys and bolts, and ascended from the dungeon.

But Fat-Frumos remained by the door. A fly buzzed and transformed into a golden rooster with a red comb. The rooster flapped its wings, crowed three times—and Fat-Frumos became a man again. He felt the door to the dungeon—seven locks on it. Fat-Frumos broke the seven locks one by one, opened the door, and saw an iron chest in the corner, with a thin ray of light shining from the keyhole. Ion strained all his strength and opened the chest. And the bright Sun burst forth, flew out like lightning through the door, and soared into the sky. In an instant, the entire earth was illuminated, and people began to gaze at the Sun, rejoicing in its warmth and light. Such joy spread across the world as it had never seen before. People embraced like brothers, happy to be freed from darkness and warmed by the gentle Sun.

Meanwhile, the Black King leapt onto the roof of his palace and tried to catch the Sun with his hands, but he fell headfirst from the roof. That was the end of him. Ion Fat-Frumos ran out of the dungeon after the Sun, rushed to his horse, and shouted:

"Carry me faster than the wind to the blacksmith!"

The horse galloped so fast that the ground rumbled beneath its hooves. It ran and ran, saw a well by the road, and stopped for a drink. But Ion Fat-Frumos leaned from the saddle, plunged his saber into the well up to the hilt, and foul blood gushed out. Ion spurred his horse, cracked his whip, and rode on.

He rode for a long or short time and suddenly saw a branching tree by the road, laden with apples. The apples were large, rosy, and ripe, hanging right by the roadside. One look at them made your mouth water. No one could pass by without tasting one. But when Ion Fat-Frumos saw the apple tree, he drew his saber and cut off all its branches. Poisonous juice poured from the apples. Wherever a drop fell, the earth caught fire and turned to slag.

Ion spurred his horse and rode on. After a long or short time, he saw a grapevine by the road, heavy with clusters of grapes. The berries were large, ripe, and full of juice. But Ion knew what kind of vine it was. He rode closer and hacked it to pieces with his saber. Poisonous juice poured out, and flames licked up from it.

Once again, Ion spurred his horse, cracked his whip—there was still a long journey ahead.

He rode on, and the Sun kept shining. Where there had once been barren land, now green fields and wondrous gardens bloomed. Miracles unfolded before his eyes: shady forests grew and spread, lush grasses sprang up. Ion Fat-Frumos rode and rode, and suddenly, out of nowhere, a dry wind blew, threatening disaster for the whole world: it bent the grass to the ground, broke trees in the forest. And a black cloud appeared. Wherever it passed, the earth burned. Fat-Frumos looked back and realized: it was not a cloud, but the evil Devourer chasing him.

Ion spurred his horse, raced like an arrow, and arrived at the forge. Without checking if anyone was inside, he rode in with his horse, locked the windows and doors with the bolts the blacksmith had forged for him, and threw the spiked mace lying by the anvil into the fire.

Then the Devourer swooped down like a whirlwind, circling the forge, but it could not enter: the forge was locked with strong bolts, the doors and shutters fitted tightly, with no cracks to be found. The Devourer pleaded in a sweet voice:

"Ion Fat-Frumos, make a crack in the wall, let me see you with at least one eye, you who managed to destroy my sons and daughters-in-law. They were the bravest and strongest on earth."

Ion Fat-Frumos stoked the coals in the forge, fanned the flames with the bellows, and when the mace glowed white-hot, he punched a hole in the wall and stood by it with the mace. When the Devourer saw the hole, it opened its mouth and rushed forward, hoping to see the young man and destroy him. But Ion Fat-Frumos swung and—wham!—hurled the mace straight into its mouth. The Devourer swallowed the red-hot mace and dropped dead on the spot.

Fat-Frumos slid back the bolts, stepped out of the forge, and led his horse out. He looked around—no cloud, no wind. The Sun shone and warmed the earth. And the Devourer lay by the wall.

Fat-Frumos leapt onto his horse and rode on. He searched the world for the place where the Sun rests at noon. He had heard that the greatest enemy, the dragon Limbă-Limbău, lived there—a dragon that neither sword, nor saber, nor mace could harm. The dragon had caused much grief and misfortune to people and was the husband of the Devourer and the father of the three giants. As long as the dragon lived, there would be no happiness on earth.

Fat-Frumos crossed many high mountains, deep valleys, and raging rivers. He asked everyone he met where to find the dragon Limbă-Limbău. Finally, he encountered an ancient, limping old man. The old man told him that he, too, had searched for the dragon but had broken his leg along the way. He revealed that the dragon's death, which no mace could strike and no saber could cut, was hidden in a sow with piglets. He must search for it to the north of the Stone Mountain.

Fat-Frumos turned his horse northward and galloped like the wind, the ground trembling beneath his hooves.

He rode for a long or short time, through green meadows and steep mountains, from day to evening, until the red sun set, and he decided to rest by a lake.

He lay down on the grass, gazed at the lake, and suddenly saw a sow with piglets by the shore. He realized this was the sow the old man had spoken of. He crept closer and saw a monstrous sight: instead of bristles, the sow had sharp needles, iron tusks, and hooves. It stepped on stones, sparking as it went.

Ion Fat-Frumos grabbed his mace and struck the sow so hard that it died on the spot. A hare leapt out of the sow and tried to run, but Fat-Frumos cut it down with his saber. A duck flew out of the hare: Ion swung his saber and chopped off its head. The duck fell to the ground and laid an egg. The egg rolled over the hummocks, cracked open, and three beetles flew out. Ion caught and killed two, but the third escaped. The beetle soared into the air and flew north. Ion mounted his horse and chased after the beetle.

The beetle flew to the castle of the dragon Limbă-Limbău. The castle stood on a high mountain, and the only way in was through a single door: there were no other doors or windows.

A guard watched the door day and night. The dragon had ordered the destruction of anyone who appeared before the door—man, bird, beast, or bug. No living creature was to enter the dragon's castle. But the dragon had forgotten to warn the guard where his death was hidden.

The beetle flew to the castle, but the guard would not let it in. The beetle pleaded in vain:

"Let me in to see Limbă-Limbău, our master. His life is in great danger, and his days are numbered. Let me pass: if the master sees me and holds me in his hand, he will live forever."

"My duty is to follow orders. If I let anyone into the castle, the master will have my head," said the guard, and he crushed the beetle underfoot.

Just then, Fat-Frumos arrived at the castle. The guard rushed at him, but Ion quickly dealt with him. He entered the castle and found Limbă-Limbău lifeless. He grabbed the dragon, threw him onto a pile of firewood, and set it ablaze. When the fire burned out, he scattered the ashes to the wind.

"Let the wind scatter you, so that no trace of evil dragons remains," said Fat-Frumos. Then he mounted his horse and rode back to his homeland.

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