Flint the Brave

Once upon a time, there lived a woman. She had two sons and a daughter. One spring day, the brothers went out to plow the field. They plowed and plowed, but one section remained, and it seemed harder than all the previous work—they were already exhausted. One morning, they prepared to go to the field, loaded the plow and harrow onto the cart, and before setting off, they said to their mother:

"Mother, how long must we keep eating dry rations? Cook something for us and send it with our little sister to the field."

"Oh, my dear ones, how can I send her, poor thing, so far away? She's still so young, she might get lost, and we'll never find her again."

"She won't get lost, Mother. We'll harness the oxen and plow a furrow from the house all the way to the field. She'll follow the furrow and come straight to us."

The mother started cooking, while the sons took the plow and began carving a deep furrow from the house, a wide path for their beloved sister. The work went smoothly that day, and the boys kept waiting, eager for their sister to bring them something hot to eat. After all, working in the field makes you hungrier, and the soup tastes so much better when you're sitting on the earth, refreshed by a cool breeze.

The young men kept glancing along the furrow, and the higher the sun rose, the more often they turned their eyes to where their long-awaited sister was supposed to appear.

But not all wishes come true; sometimes the sun warms on one side, while shadows deepen on the other.

Not far from their field lay the domain of a dragon, an ancient, white as winter, and gloomy as a stormy autumn. The wretched dragon learned of the path the girl would take and decided to capture her, to make her a slave in his court. Without delay, he set off on his journey. He reached the furrow and began to cover it, blow it away, and trample it. When he reached the edge of the village, he threw off the plow with its copper plowshare from his back and carved a deep, peasant furrow all the way to his palace. The girl stepped out of the village and followed the furrow, but instead of reaching her brothers, she arrived at the terrible dragon's palace. The dragon seized her, locked her in his chambers, and each day gave her heavier and heavier tasks. The brothers and their mother were heartbroken when they returned home and discovered their sister had gone missing. They thought and thought until midnight but came up with nothing. The next morning, the older brother got up, packed a bag, and set off to search the wide world for where the evil wind had taken his sister. He saw the fresh furrow and followed the trail. Like a light chip carried by rushing waters to eternal burial, the dragon's furrow led the young man not to a joyful life but to certain death. And there was no one to turn him from this path. He walked faster and faster along the fresh trail of his sister. The furrow ended, and the young man stepped into the dragon's kingdom. Not far away stretched a beautiful garden, like a green sea, with trees more beautiful than one another. In the middle of the garden stood a golden palace, adorned with precious stones, gleaming like the red sun. The young man didn't falter but strode boldly toward the palace. Then a maiden's voice stopped him:

"Dear lad, wait,
There's no path to the palace,
Don't enter the enchanted garden,
You'll regret it later.
When the dragon-dog sees
That you're challenging him,
Bitter sorrow awaits us—
He'll kill you on the spot!"

The young man looked around and saw his sister before him. She recognized him too and approached—her face sad, tears streaming down.

"Oh, brother, leave quickly, or the fierce dragon will come and kill you on sight."

"Sister, sister,
It's time to go home!
Since you left us
On that ill-fated day and hour—
The sun's light went out for all.
We shed tears like rivers,
So let's hurry home."

"Come quickly," she said, and they grabbed each other's hands and started running. But they hadn't taken three steps when the dragon's massive club fell right in front of them—so huge that they couldn't go around it. Then the dragon himself loomed before them and asked:

"Well, lad, shall we fight or feast?"

"I don't need your feast,
Let's settle this in battle!
Come out, dragon-dog,
Show me your strength!"

The dragon glanced at the sword hanging at his side and shouted:

"My sword, come out,
Leave your sheath,
Knock him off his feet!"

The sword leapt from its sheath, whistled through the air, and cut off the young man's legs.

The dragon grabbed his club, spun it above his head, and hurled it far, far away, beyond the palace, beyond the garden, to the very edge of his kingdom. The club struck the ground and dug a deep pit. The dragon threw the unfortunate young man and his severed legs into it.

Much time passed, and sorrow and tears drove the second brother to follow the same path. He walked along the furrow from morning till noon, passed the deep pit dug by the dragon's club, and reached the garden. Just as he was about to enter, he heard a maiden's voice:

"Dear lad, wait,
There's no path to the palace,
Don't enter the enchanted garden,
You'll regret it later.
When the dragon-dog sees
That you're challenging him,
Bitter sorrow awaits us—
He'll kill you on the spot!"

The young man turned and saw his sister. She recognized him too and approached—her face sad, tears streaming like rivers, and she said:

"Oh, brother, leave quickly, or the dragon will come and you'll lose your head."

"Sister, sister,
It's time to go home!
Since you left us
On that ill-fated day and hour—
The sun's light went out for all.
We shed tears like rivers,
So let's hurry home."

They had only taken two or three steps when the fierce dragon blocked their path again.

"Stop, lad, and answer me: shall we fight or feast?"

The young man retorted:

"I don't need your feast,
Let's settle this in battle!
Come out, dragon-dog,
Show me your strength!"

The dragon then commanded his sword:

"My sword, come out,
Leave your sheath,
Knock him off his feet!"

The sword leapt from its sheath, whistled through the air, and cut off the young man's legs above the knees. The dragon bent down and threw him into the same deep pit.

The girl's grief knew no bounds. She turned as dark as the earth, shedding bloody tears, and every day she crept to the deep pit to throw food to her brothers.
And the mother still waits, yearning for the return of at least one of her children. One day, as she passed by the well, she felt the desire to drink some cold water. She quenched her thirst, sat down to rest for a while on the flint stones, and conceived from this.

Soon she gave birth to a boy, as beautiful as the clear sun. Her son grew before her eyes: another child wouldn't grow as much in a year as he did in a day. And she named him Flint-the-Youth. Barely two weeks had passed, and he was already playing with ten- and twelve-year-old boys. No one could match his strength. One day, people spoke among themselves, looking at him and marveling at his strength:

"This one, if he sets out, will surely find his brothers and sister." Flint overheard these words and ran home as fast as he could.

"Mother, do I have brothers and sisters?" The mother's brow clouded, she thought for a moment, and then said:

"No, my son, you have no one else."

But it wasn't easy for the mother to deceive her child—her sorrow gnawed at her. And Flint noticed how his mother was saddened, and he believed the rumors even more. Once, while hunting, he wandered onto a green meadow and saw an iron rock. "If only I could make a club out of it!" he thought, and he took it to the blacksmith.

The blacksmith forged a club so heavy that twelve men couldn't lift it. Flint took it, brought it home, and swung it so hard that it flew up and disappeared behind the clouds. Then the young man opened the door and said to his mother:

"I'll lie down to rest, and when you hear the club humming, wake me up."

He slept for three days and three nights. On the fourth day, hearing a piercing whistle, his mother woke him. He rushed to the doorstep and caught the club on his knee. Then he examined it—it had bent: "It needs more forging," he thought, and took it back to the forge. Then he called his mother and said:

"Mother, I had a dream. An old, gray-haired man came to me and advised that you should crawl under the house and hand me a piece of flatbread you baked, so that my strength would triple."

What wouldn't parents do to make their children stronger and more beautiful! Flint-the-Youth lifted the house near the foundation, and his mother crawled under it with the flatbread in her hand, offering it to him. And he began to slowly lower the house onto her—more and more. She endured and endured, but finally cried out:

"Flint, Flint, what are you doing?"

"Tell me, mother, do I have brothers and sisters?" The mother groaned and wept:

"Yes, my dear, you have brothers and a sister."

She told him how they had left one after another and never returned.

"Well, if that's the case, knead me some flatbread for the long journey, using your tears. I'll go out into the wide world, maybe I'll find their trail."

The mother crawled out from under the house, poured flour into the kneading trough, and kneaded the dough, watering it with bitter tears. Flint took the fresh flatbread and set off along the furrow, following the footsteps of his brothers. He walked and walked, passed a deep abyss dug by a dragon's club, and reached a beautiful garden. Just as he was about to enter, he heard a maiden's voice:

"Dear lad, wait, there is no path to the palace, don't enter the enchanted garden, or you'll regret it later. If the dragon-dog sees you daring to trespass, bitter grief awaits us—he will kill you at once!"

Flint stopped and, seeing a pale, exhausted, tearful girl, took pity on her and handed her a piece of flatbread. The girl brought the flatbread to her mouth.

"Where did you get this flatbread?"

"From home. My mother gave it to me."

"That can't be, for this bread was baked by my mother."

"Then you must be my sister."

Flint-the-Youth told her how their mother had sent two sons, young and handsome, to find their sister and bring her home.

"And so they left," the youth said, "and vanished without a trace. Mother only knows the day they left, but when they'll return—who knows?"

"I walked along the furrow from home, and my brothers followed me. We did meet, but the dragon wouldn't let us return home."

"Dear sister, let's run away."

"If you're my brother, then return home quickly and take care of our mother, for it's unlikely she'll see us again. No matter how many times I tried to escape, as soon as I took three steps, the dragon would catch me, beat me, and bring me back."
- How am I to recognize him?

- When he meets a stranger, he always asks, "So, shall we fight or feast?" If the answer is "let's fight," he commands his sword:
"My sword, come forth,
Leave your sheath,
Knock him off his feet!"

And that's how he struck down both my brothers and threw them into a pit. But if the answer is different and the uninvited guest wishes to "feast," the serpent leads him to the palace, seats him at the table, and begins to treat him—with three roasted oxen, wine, and bread. And such is his custom: once he gnaws a bone clean, he strikes the guest on the head to crack the skull and suck out the brain. And if someone is tougher and withstands such treatment,

their end still comes, for after eating, the dragon turns again to his sword:
"My sword, come forth,
Leave your sheath,
Knock him off his feet!"

Just as the maiden finished her tale, a terrible black cloud rose in the distance, thunder roared, and from behind the cloud, the dragon's mace came hurtling like lightning. Flint, the brave youth, caught it with one hand, twirled it above his head, and hurled it back. The cloud darkened and grew even more ominous, and the serpent's angry voice boomed:

- Ah, unwelcome guests await me!

And straight from the mountain, the shapeshifter tumbled down like a whirlwind, raising a pillar of dust around him, struck the ground, and turned into a dragon.

- What do you desire, good lad—to fight or to feast?

- Let's eat first, sit at the table, and then we'll fight!
They entered the palace, and the serpent set three roasted oxen, a barrel of wine, and began to feast. He gnawed a bone, grabbed it, and—whack!—struck the youth on the head. But this time, the scythe met a stone! Flint also gnawed a bone and then struck the dragon right on the forehead with such force that sparks flew from his eyes. While the serpent was recovering, Flint snatched his saber from its sheath, broke it over his knee—first in half, then into four, then into eight pieces—and smashed them against a rock, scattering them to dust. The dragon came to his senses, reached for his saber, but it was gone. Seeing that things had gone awry, his trick had failed, he went out into the yard and roared at the top of his lungs:

- Come out, lad, let's fight on the copper threshing floor.

They went out to the copper threshing floor, forged by ninety-nine serpent-giants over ninety-nine days with ninety-nine hammers on as many anvils. There they clashed in a life-or-death struggle, striking with their maces—until the maces shattered to pieces. Then they grappled hand-to-hand, each trying to overpower the other by sheer strength. Rocks crumbled, mountains sank into the earth, splinters flew from trees, lightning flashed in the sky, and thunder roared as the cursed dragon wrestled with Flint, the brave youth. They fought and fought until they were exhausted and collapsed to the ground from sheer fatigue. They grew so heated that blue flames burst from the dragon's mouth and green flames from Flint's. As they lay there, barely catching their breath, they suddenly saw a gray falcon high in the blue sky. When the serpent saw it, he shouted with all his might:

"Falcon, fly
To the Danube River,
With your mighty beak
Fetch water from the finest barrel,
Bring it here,
Quench the flames.

For disobedience,
Expect punishment:
I will crush your kind,
End the lives
Of falcons, tits,
And all other birds."

But the falcon circled above them as if nothing had happened. Then Flint, the brave youth, gently asked:

"Ah, my little falcon,
Fetch me some spring water,
Bring it quickly,
Douse the flames,
Quench my thirst,
Cool me down.
The people will rejoice,
And as a reward,
By law,
I will give you
The dragon's carcass.
Fly, my dear,
There will be a feast here
For falcons, tits,
And all other birds."

The falcon dove to the ground, searched here and there, and soon reappeared, clutching a jug of cold, spring water. He quenched the brave youth's thirst, sprinkled him, and refreshed him.

Feeling new strength, Flint jumped up, strained, and grabbed the fierce dragon, slammed him into the ground—and that was the end of the dragon. The clouds parted, the bright sun appeared, and the wind carried the fragrance of the fields on its wings. Flint returned to the palace, found his sister, took her by the hand, and said:

- Now let's go home; the fierce dragon won't stop us anymore.
The maiden took a few steps, stopped, and wept.

- Oh, brother, I cannot leave, abandoning our poor brothers here.

- Where are they?

- In a deep chasm. The dragon crippled them and threw them there.
Flint descended into the chasm and soon carried both brothers out in his arms. The poor fellows held their severed legs and were pale and thin, barely alive. Flint laid them on the green grass, looked around, and headed straight east. He walked and walked through mountains, valleys, dense forests, and steep cliffs, until he met an old woman along the way.

- Good day, grandmother!

- Hello, brave lad! Where are you headed?

- I seek the water of death and the water of life.

- There are many springs in this valley, but it won't be easy to find the water of death and life; almost all the springs are poisoned.
Flint sat down and pondered. Here was a spring, there a bubbling stream, but how could he tell which was healing? He couldn't taste them: what if he drank poison and lost his life?

Flint wandered through the valley, eyeing the springs, and suddenly came across some flowers. He began picking them, gathered a large bouquet, and returned to the springs; he dipped a flower into each spring. Just enough flowers for all the springs. Flint turned back and saw: everywhere the flowers had withered and shriveled. Only in one spring did a flower bloom more beautifully than before, and in another, the flower took root in the ground. He filled two jugs with water from these springs and walked on without looking back. Then he placed his brothers' severed legs back, sprinkled them with the water of death, and the legs reattached; when he sprinkled them with the water of life, the brothers stood up as if nothing had happened. Their joy knew no bounds. They embraced, kissed, and all four set off for home. Just as the dawn's light and the sun's warmth revive everything after a cold, dark night, so did love and happiness return to their mother's heart when she saw her children. They lived happily and peacefully for many, many years, each with their own home and table, and perhaps they still live, if they haven't passed away.

More fairy tales

• The Cook and the Boyar
• The Shepherd's Dog
• The Cook and the Tsar
• Pekală and Tindală at the Priest's Work
• Marko the Rich