The Night Helpers of the Good Housewife

In the old days, a good housewife, after finishing all her daily chores, would often take up her needlework—spinning wool or weaving cloth late into the night. Aineri, the wife of a prosperous farmer, was no exception. Their house stood on the island of Tyri, near a beautiful green hill. This hill was called Berg-hill, and it was rumored to be inhabited by fairies. One night, when the farmer and the rest of the household were already asleep, Aineri was still sitting by the candlelight, spinning wool. Finally, she became so exhausted that she clasped her head in her hands and exclaimed:

"Oh, if only someone would come—whether from the sea or the land, from far or near—to help me finish this cloth!"

No sooner had she uttered these words than she heard a knock at the door, and a thin, melodious voice called out to her:

"Aineri, good mistress, open the door—I have come to help you!" Aineri was startled but opened the door nonetheless. On the threshold stood a tiny, unfamiliar woman dressed entirely in green. She entered the room, went straight to the spinning wheel, and immediately began to spin. But as soon as Aineri closed the door behind her, there came another, louder knock, and again a voice sang out:

"Aineri, good mistress, open the door—I have come to help you!" Aineri once more slid back the bolt, and another strange little woman, also dressed in green, entered the room. She immediately sat down at the distaff, where the spindle and wool were set.

But that wasn’t all! After the second green-clad woman came a third, then a fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh… In short, so many of them arrived that poor Aineri lost count. She stood there, unsure of what to do, and could only marvel at the incredible diligence with which her guests set to work. Some were carding and combing the wool, others swiftly drove the shuttle across the loom, while others tirelessly worked the warp. Some were preparing to felt the cloth, boiling water on the hearth to soak the woven fabric so it would shrink and settle. And one little gnome, who had come with the fairies, grabbed Aineri and began to dance with her. "Surely, all the fairies of Berg-hill have come to me!" thought Aineri. The tiny, dark-skinned women in green grew louder and noisier as they jostled and argued over space. Strangely, their commotion didn’t wake the farmer, who was sleeping in the next room. But, oddly enough, he was sleeping so soundly that Aineri began to fear the fairies had enchanted him.

To make matters worse, her helpers kept squealing in high-pitched voices that they were hungry, and Aineri did her best to feed them. It must be said that Aineri was already worn out from the day’s work, and now, with the arrival of her helpers, she could barely stay on her feet. The night wore on, but the insatiable hunger of the tiny women grew with the same fantastical speed with which they worked. It seemed that even if she gathered all the bread and meat in the world, it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy them.

By midnight, Aineri was completely exhausted and could think of only one thing—how to rid herself of her fairy helpers. More than once, she went into the next room and tried to wake her husband. But it would have been easier to lift a millstone! The farmer slept like the dead; his wife shouted in his ear, but he didn’t stir.

Aineri racked her brains—what should she do? Finally, she decided to seek advice from a wise old man who lived nearby. She baked some buns and handed them out to the tiny green-clad women, leaving one small bun to finish baking. Then she quietly slipped out the door and ran down the path to the old man’s hut. There, she told him of her troubles and asked for his advice.

"How can I get rid of these little women?" she asked the old man. "And how can I wake my husband? He sleeps as if enchanted."

The wise old man first scolded Aineri for thoughtlessly asking for help "from the sea or the land, from far or near," then said:

"Never again in your life wish for, ask for, or beg for something that might turn against you. You guessed right—your husband has been enchanted. You’ll only wake him when you drive the fairy helpers out of your house and sprinkle him with the water they were using to felt the cloth. As for the fairies, you can get rid of them like this: go back home, open the door, and shout at the top of your lungs three times: 'Berg-hill is on fire!' At that, your green guests will drop their work and run to the fire. Once they’re out, lock the door, then scatter and overturn everything they touched—the spinning wheel, the distaff, the loom, everything. Turn everything upside down. After that, everything will sort itself out."

Aineri thanked the old man for his kind advice and hurried home. As soon as she reached the open door of her house, she shouted at the top of her lungs:

"Berg-hill is on fire! Berg-hill is burning! Berg-hill is engulfed in red flames!"

No sooner had she shouted this than the fairies rushed out of the house in a crowd, pushing and trampling each other. As they ran, they lamented what they had left behind in their hill, each naming what was dearest to her:

"Oh, my husband and children,
And my cheese and butter,
My sons and daughters,
And my flour bins,
My comb and carders,
My spindles and threads,
My cows and halters,
My horses and harness,
My plows and storerooms,
My hammer and anvil…
Oh, the earth has split open,
And Berg-hill is burning!
If our hill burns down,
It’s the end of our joy,
And our dear labors!"

As soon as all the fairies had run off, Aineri quickly entered the house and locked the door. Then, following the old man’s advice, she began to overturn and scatter everything the fairies had touched: she untied the cord from the spinning wheel, twisted the distaff in the opposite direction, overturned the loom, and removed the water for felting from the fire.

Before she could finish, the fairies returned. They saw that their hill was not on fire and realized that Aineri had tricked them to lure them out of her house. They pounded on the door with their tiny fists, so loudly and quickly that it sounded like hail falling.

"Aineri, good mistress, let us in!" the fairies cried.

"I won’t let you in!" she replied. Then they pleaded with the spinning wheel:

"Good spinning wheel, rise and open the door for us!"

"I can’t," replied the spinning wheel, "my cord has been removed."

The fairies called to the distaff:

"Good distaff, open the door for us!"

"I wouldn’t mind opening it," replied the distaff, "but I’ve been twisted the wrong way."

Then the fairies remembered the loom and begged it:

"Good loom, open the door for us!"

"I’d gladly open it," replied the loom, "but I’ve been overturned."

Only the water the fairies had been using to felt the cloth remained. They pleaded with it:

"Good water, won’t you open the door for us?"

"I can’t," replied the water, "I’ve been taken off the fire."

The fairies didn’t know what else to do. Finally, they remembered the little bun that was browning in the hearth.

"Bun, bun, fluffy bun," they cried, "open the door for us, and quickly!"

The bun jumped up and hopped toward the door. But Aineri rushed after it, pinched it, and it fell to the floor. Realizing they couldn’t get in, the fairies began to screech and scream so piercingly that it was unbearable. At last, Aineri remembered the water the fairies had been using to felt the cloth. She scooped up some water with a ladle, ran to the bedroom, and sprinkled it on her husband. He woke up immediately—and not a moment too soon! As soon as he awoke, he heard the terrible noise outside. The farmer jumped out of bed, flung open the front door, and stood on the threshold, frowning angrily.

The noise stopped at once, and the fairies, like green shadows, began to fade and disappeared completely. They never troubled Aineri again.

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The Night Helpers of the Good Housewife

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