Hans and the Elf Tree

In a fairytale kingdom, deep in a magical forest, lives a gnome named Hans. His cozy home is nestled among the thick roots of a sprawling oak tree. It has everything you need, including a fireplace and a pantry where Hans keeps jam and other useful things.

Hans enjoys collecting sticks. His treasure includes pieces of wood of all shapes and colors: straight and crooked, smooth and rough, soft and hard, dark and light. On winter evenings, when the forest is covered in snow, Hans likes to take out his collection of sticks, examine them, and remember where and when he found them.

One winter evening like this, Hans was sitting by the fireplace, stirring the embers with a wooden poker. The embers glowed, flared up, and then faded away - a fascinating spectacle! Hans was so lost in thought that he didn't notice how the poker caught fire.

"Ouch!" he cried as the flames burned his fingers, and threw the poker into the fire.

"Great, what am I going to stir up the embers with now?" said Hans and his collection of sticks came to mind. He absolutely didn't want them to burn, but he finally decided to take the one he liked the least.

Hans ran into the pantry, grabbed an armful of sticks, threw them on the floor by the fireplace, and began to choose. This stick had been floating in the creek while Hans was building the dam. It looked like a pirate's saber. Hans waved the stick, imagining himself on a ship. And this one, with its big knot, looked like a bird perched on a branch. He whistled, imitating a nightingale, then suddenly stopped - his attention was caught by a glowing stick. It was unlike the others - little green leaves were growing on it.

“Green leaves on a stick? In winter? How is that possible?” Hans was surprised. He remembered finding it early last summer, and the leaves should have dried up and fallen off long ago. But no, they were fresh, small, and green.

Hans stared at the stick so long that the fireplace went out. The clock struck midnight. Then, yawning, he decided it was time to sleep and that he would deal with the mysterious stick the next day. Hans picked all the sticks up and carried to the pantry.

The next morning, he forgot about the misterious stick and didn't think about it until mid-spring. That day, Hans was walking with his friends, a squirrel and a bunny, admiring the forest waking up after winter. They went to a meadow of purple bells, gazed at a fluffy tree, all in small pink flowers, and admired the first leaves appearing on the ancient oaks. Then Hans remembered the stick with leaves and told his friends about it.

"It's not possible!" said the friends and decided to go to Hans's house to see the stick.

Hans brought a pile of sticks out of the pantry, and everyone saw the magical twig lying among the gray and brown pieces of wood. But now, in addition to the leaves, pink spring flowers were growing on it.

"This is it," said Hans, handing it to the squirrel.

"How is that possible?" the squirrel was surprised. "Where did you get it from?"

"It was brought by a hurricane last summer," answered Hans.

"Yes, the wind was so strong that it knocked down several trees," remembered the bunny.

"But it is obviously magical," said the squirrel. "I would like to find out where it came from."

"But how?" asked Hans.

The squirrel began to examine the stick from all sides, and then said:

"Wait! Any stick must be from some tree, and not only squirrels live on trees, but also birds. Unlike us, squirrels, they fly to different corners of the fairytale kingdom, and if we ask them, we can find out about the magic tree."

Everyone agreed and decided to first ask the titmouse who lived next to the squirrel. And it turned out that the titmouse had heard from other birds that in the Dark Forest there grows a magic tree that never sheds its leaves and even glows in the dark. The titmouse herself had not seen it, but she would very much like to see it.

Hans then said that he wanted to go into the Dark Forest and find the magic tree. But he knew that the way there led through the high mountains, which would be impossible for him to pass alone. So he decided to ask his friend, the Wizard of the Blue Mountain, for help. "The wizard will surely think of something," thought Hans.

The squirrel and the bunny helped Hans get ready for the journey, brought him nuts, dried berries and mushrooms. Hans put on his travel suit with a green cap, put the blooming twig and some food in his bag, thanked his friends and hit the road.

The wizard lived on one of the high hills that began right behind the magical forest. On the hill where the wizard's small cozy house stood, beautiful blue flowers grew from early spring to late autumn. That's why the hill was called the Blue Mountain, and the wizard who lived on this hill was called the Wizard of the Blue Mountain.

Hans ran up the yellow path to the house and saw the wizard on the porch. He was sleeping in a rocking chair. A shaggy red dog was dozing nearby, and a gray tabby cat was sitting on the steps of the porch. In his paws was a small cup of tea. The cat took a sip from it, closed his eyes and purred with pleasure.

"Hello, Matthew!" Hans greeted the cat.

"Hans, good evening!" said the cat and meowed with joy. "By the way, we've been waiting for you since this morning. The wizard said you'd definitely come see us today, but he fell asleep after lunch. Let me wake him up."

And before Hans could say a word, Matthew began to stir the tea loudly, deliberately knocking the spoon against the sides of the cup. Ding-ding-ding-ding. The wizard shuddered and opened his eyes.

"Oh, I dozed off for a moment," he said, looking at the noisy cat who was pointing its paw at Hans.

"Oh, my friend!" the wizard rejoiced, getting up and going to greet Hans. "Come in, come in! We'll give you something delicious to eat, and then we'll talk."

He helped Hans take off his bag and climb straight onto the table, where the gnome made himself comfortable and began to wait for the wizard and the cat to bring the treats.

After dinner, over a cup of tea, Hans showed the wizard the blooming twig and told him he was going to the Dark Forest to find the magic tree. But the path there led over high mountains, which Hans could not cross alone. So he came to his friend the wizard to ask for help and advice.

"You came to me at the right time, my friend," said the wizard. "Since this morning, I've had a feeling that trouble is coming to the elves of the Dark Forest, and I think you can help them."

Surprised, Hans wanted to ask the wizard how he knew about the trouble and how he, an ordinary gnome, could help the elves, but he had a delicious roll in his mouth, and while he was chewing it, the wizard had already come down from the porch, turned towards the high snow-capped mountains, shouted a few words, and waved his staff. His voice echoed in the distant mountains.

"What was that?" asked Hans when the wizard returned to the table.

"I called our friends the eagles; they will help you cross the high mountains and quickly reach the Dark Forest," replied the wizard, pouring himself another cup of aromatic tea. Before he could finish it, two dark dots appeared from the mountains in the setting sun. They grew larger and larger, until they became great gray eagles. The birds circled around the wizard's small house and landed on the porch railing.

“What a wonderful aroma,” said the first eagle, stretching out his neck and turning his head to the side so that he could see the table with one eye.

“Yes, my friend, you have an excellent sense of smell,” laughed the wizard, took the plate of buns, and handed it to one, then to the other. The eagles, squinting with pleasure, ate the still-warm cinnamon buns, thanked Matthew the cat for baking them, and then listened attentively to the wizard’s request to carry Hans over the high mountains, straight to the Dark Forest.

"Of course, we'll take Hans straight to the Dark Forest, but the journey isn't short, and we'll arrive there late at night," said the first eagle, looking questioningly at Hans.

"Thank you, I agree," said Hans happily, then he greeted the wizard, the cat, and the dog, put on his travel bag, climbed onto the eagle, and grabbed its feathers. "I'm ready!"

"Maybe you should put on something warmer?" the wizard asked Hans. "I can look in the house."

"No, thanks, my travel jacket will do," Hans thanked.

The eagles flapped their huge wings, rose into the air, raced past the porch and soared high into the sky. They flew toward the high, cold mountains, where the sun had almost hidden behind the snowy peaks.

Hans saw the wizard and the cat wave goodbye to him. Then the house on the blue hill became a dot. And then the hill itself disappeared over the horizon. A strong, cold wind blew, and Hans saw the green hills below give way to white mountains.

It was already dark, but the mountains still stretched far ahead. Hans looked up and saw an unusually beautiful starry sky. A full moon shone ahead. Hans thought they would soon reach it, but it wasn't getting any closer. Hans was so cold that he could barely hold on to the eagle’s feathers and couldn't utter a single word. "If only I could crawl under a warm blanket and sleep now," thought Hans, nearly falling over. The eagle noticed in time that the gnome was falling and caught him with its wing.

"We're not far away now, hold on," Hans heard through the whistling wind.

And indeed, soon the mountains were getting lower. Even the snow no longer glistened on their peaks. Then they turned into hills, and ahead, beyond the hills, Hans saw a dark strip of forest. It stretched across the entire horizon and looked like an ocean.

The eagles landed right in front of the tall trees where the Dark Forest began. Hans, still shivering from the cold, dropped to the ground, cleared his throat and croaked, "Thank you, Mister Eagle!"

"We are always happy to help you, Mr. Hans. We will meet you here to take you back to the wizard. In the meantime, follow the forest path," the eagle pointed its wing toward the forest, "and you will find the city of the forest elves."

After wishing luck, the eagles flew off into the mountains.

"How will I find them again later?" thought Hans as he watched the eagles fly away. He immediately imagined how he would fly over the snow-covered mountains and freeze to the bone again. He shivered, but quickly drove away this unpleasant thought, remembering the magic tree. With brisk steps, to warm himself, the gnome headed towards the forest.

Having reached the forest path, Hans walked along it, whistling his favourite tune. Despite the fact that the forest was said to be dark, everything was visible, even at night. First, the bright moon lit the way. Second, the elves had hung barely visible green lanterns from the branches, which, Hans believed, helped them not to get lost.

Their flickering green light was so soothing and relaxing that Hans didn't even notice when he lay down on a stump by the roadside, put his bag under his head, and closed his eyes. "Of course they're sleeping lanterns, I've heard of them somewhere before," thought Hans, sinking into a deep, magical sleep.

He woke up amidst noise and shouts. Opening his eyes, Hans saw that he was in a large room. It was unusual. Everything around it was woven with branches - wide windows, walls, furniture - as if the room had grown right from a tree. Hans got out of bed, went to the carved window, and saw that he was in a house perched at the top of a huge tree. There were many other similar houses all around, connected by hanging bridges. Everywhere, on the houses, on the bridges, and on the tree branches, hung the same lanterns as on the forest path, but they no longer shone with a soft green light, but flickered anxiously with yellow-red lights, like torches.

And then Hans understood what had woken him up. Little men were running and shouting along the hanging bridges. They were all going down somewhere, but one of them was running up, straight to Hans's house. Then the door opened, and Hans saw an elf on the threshold. Hans knew at once that it was an elf, because typical elves wore green caps adorned with a beautiful multi-coloured feather. That was how he had seen them in books.

"Mister Hans," the elf began excitedly. "Trouble, trouble! Come with me!"

Surprised, Hans followed the elf. They went down from the tree by the hanging bridges and ran through the forest, along a path dimly lit by an ominous glow.

Hans's glasses immediately became covered in drops. It was pouring with rain. And not just a simple rain, but a violent thunderstorm: the forest was constantly lit by flashes of lightning and rocked by peals of thunder.

Soon they ran to a clearing, and Hans saw a large tree spread out in its center. Exactly as he had imagined it. But instead of joy, horror froze on his face: an immense flame rose high into the sky. It was the magic tree, burning. The elves gathered around it, many of them were crying.

"What happened?" Hans asked the elf.

"Lightning," the elf said sadly. "A bolt of unusual force struck it. Now that our tree is dead, we elves will have to leave the Dark Forest."

"Why?" Hans asked.

"We only live in forests where the tree of life grows. When it dies, we leave and travel the world until we find a new, magic tree," the elf replied with a sigh. "We have lived in this forest for thousands of years, and we will be very sad to leave it."

Before their eyes, the elf's magic tree melted in the fire. Soon, the flames died out, leaving only glowing ashes on the ground. Then, as if by magic, the clouds dispersed, and the rain stopped.

"Can't we do anything? Like plant a new tree, just like this one?" Hans turned to the elf, who had already turned to leave the clearing back into the forest.

“Alas, it’s impossible to plant it,” the elf shrugged his shoulders. “It appears by itself, and no one knows how or why it gets to this particular spot. Legends say that sometimes, once in their lives, magic trees lose a twig that floats away or flies far, far away, and a new magic tree emerges from it. But those are just fairy tales. If you pluck a branch, it will dry up immediately. I tried.”

And then Hans remembered the twig with leaves and flowers he'd brought in his bag. "There it is!" flashed through his mind, and he held his breath in excitement.

"Let’s go!" he shouted to the elf. "Run back to the house! We need my bag!"

The elf ran along the path, followed by Hans. The magic lanterns in the forest no longer resembled fire, but shimmered with a cheerful blue light. They ran to a large, spreading tree, at the top of which the elf houses could be seen. Quickly climbing the hanging bridges, they reached Hans's room and entered it.

"Where did you put my bag?" asked Hans, barely catching his breath after running.

"We found you asleep in the forest, right on the path, and we brought you here. We put the bag next to the bed. Yes, it's there, to the right," pointed the elf in front of him.

Hans rushed to the bag, quickly opened it, and took out the blooming stick.

"That's the twig, isn't it?" Hans asked hopefully, showing the elf a stick with little green leaves and flowers growing on it. In the moonlight, it seemed to shine.

When the elf saw the twig, his eyes widened, and he fainted. Hans woke him up, gave him some water to drink, and helped him up. The elf, still wobbly, approached the stick and gently picked it up. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"Where did you find it, Mr. Hans?" he looked at the gnome.

"I found this twig last summer; it was brought in by a hurricane," replied Hans.

The elf went back to examining the stick: "Yes, that's it!"

"You saved us, Hans! Let's run to the king; he must know how to plant a new tree!" exclaimed the elf, but then suddenly stopped and handed the twig back to Hans. "If you don't mind, of course? After all, it's yours."

"Of course not, I'll be happy to help!" replied Hans, asking, "By the way, what's your name, and how do you know mine?"

“Oh, excuse me, please! In all this fuss, I completely forgot to introduce myself. My name is Green, and I am a forest elf. And almost everyone here knows about you and your adventures, and I immediately realized that it was you,” the elf replied, beckoning Hans to follow him.

When the Elf King saw what Hans and Green had brought him, he fainted too. But when he came to, he began to jump and dance for joy, and to sing at the top of his lungs: "We are saved, we are saved!" The other elves joined him, and even Hans. They all took hands, and a line of dancing elves went down the hanging bridges, then along the forest path to where the luminous ashes replaced the magic tree.

All the elves of the Dark Forest gathered in the clearing. The elves walked in a circle and chanted something in their elven language. They held magic lanterns in their hands.

The King and Hans stood in the middle. The king moved the still warm ashes with his hands to form a hole just the right size for the twig. Hans carefully placed the blooming stick in the hole and carefully sprinkled it with ashes. Glowing particles of the once great magic tree remained on his hands. The king took out a golden jug of water and poured it on the ashes, and Hans did the same. And then there was silence. All the elves, holding their breath, waited to see what would happen next.

And suddenly, high in the sky, a star shone. A small spark flashed from it and, like a bird, circled above the elves' heads, then rose and fell abruptly to the spot where Hans had planted the twig. It burst into flames, and like roots, luminous threads began to spread out in all directions beneath the feet of the elves. Everyone saw how, from the spot where the spark had fallen, a small sprout of the future magic tree appeared.

The joy of the elves was beyond words. They sang, danced, hugged. Hans rejoiced and danced with them. Soon he felt very tired and wanted to sleep.

"Dear Hans," the king said, "I will have you taken to your chambers so that you can rest well. I will stay here until morning. We will meet for a late breakfast. I hope you will do me the honour of doing so."

"Of course, Your Majesty," replied Hans, delighted but very tired. The king asked Green to take Hans home, and he himself joined the circle and began walking around the magic sprout, humming a mysterious elven melody.

Hans slept wonderfully that night. He had a happy dream: an elven tree had appeared in his magical forest. It was huge, like a real mountain. And on its top, which stretched far into the clouds, there was snow. Then the elves arrived, and with them the king and Green. The elves decided to stay and live there, and Hans showed them the best places to build tree houses.

"Of course, we don't have trees as tall as in the Dark Forest," Hans told them.

"Mister Hans," Green interrupted.

"Yes, my friend," Hans addressed the elf.

"Mister Hans, it's time to get up," Green said. "It's already morning, the king is expecting you for breakfast."

And Hans woke up. He was in a great mood. He quickly got ready, washed, and went to find the king. At breakfast, the king joked a lot and told incredible, funny stories. One of them was from his childhood. One day, when he was a small kid, he climbed the magic elven tree and couldn't get down. He screamed and screamed, but no one heard him. Then, tired, he fell asleep on a thick branch. The elves searched for him all night, but never found him. In the morning, the older elves came to the tree to pay homage and ask for help in finding the prince. They raised their hands to sing their elven songs, and the future king fell into their arms. At first, of course, his parents - the king and queen - scolded him very harshly, but they still couldn't hold back their laughter. Since then, at every festival, the elves tell the funny story of a boy prince who fell like an apple from the magic tree.

After breakfast, Hans and the king went to see how the tree was growing. Imagine Hans's surprise when he saw not a small sprout in the clearing, but a huge, spreading tree, on which, besides its leaves, grew thousands of white flowers. It was so beautiful that Hans admired it for a long time.

Visiting is good, but staying home is even better. So Hans kindly asked the king to let him go home. As a farewell, the king gave Hans an elven necklace made of forest amber, and Green brought a freshly baked elven pie, which was incredibly delicious. The elves also gave Hans a warm hooded jacket. Oh, how happy Hans was about this gift! He still remembered the cold he had experienced flying across the snowy mountains, and he regretted not listening to the wizard and dressing more warmly.

The elves escorted Hans to the edge of the forest, where the eagles were already waiting for him. Hans thanked the elves for their hospitality, and they, refusing to let him go even to the point of shedding tears, asked him to come back and join them one day. Hans promised, sat on the eagle, and they flew into the sky. The eagles quickly gained altitude. Hans looked down and saw the forest transform into a dark green ocean, on the banks of which small dots appeared: the elves.

This time, the flight over the mountains was a pleasant journey. The jacket the elves had given Hans was warm and cozy. Hans watched the snow-capped peaks, transformed over time into hills, float beneath the wings. And then a blue hill appeared, in the fairytale kingdom they called the Blue Mountain. On it stood a small yellow house, on the porch of which Hans could make out three tiny figures: a wizard in a purple robe, a shaggy red dog, and a gray tabby cat, rather plump, it must be said.

The eagles landed right in front of the steps leading to the porch. Hans jumped down and threw himself into his friends' arms. All evening, Hans was telling them about the Dark Forest, the elves, the incident with the tree, the king and his amusing anecdotes -everything he had seen, down to the smallest detail. The cat Matthew listened with interest, poured tea, and handed him delicious cinnamon buns, and he himself ate the elf pie, trying to understand how exactly it was baked. And Hans went on telling them, on and on. They sat almost until morning, until they fell asleep at the table.

The next morning, after breakfast, the wizard accompanied Hans down the hill.

"I'm so proud of you, Hans," said the wizard. "You saved not only the elves, but the entire Dark Forest. Yes, it was a strange incident with the storm and lightning, for elven trees don't usually burn, but we shall surely find out one day. And to complete your collection of sticks, I would like to give you this one. I carved it myself from an oak branch."

And the wizard gave Hans a beautiful smooth stick, skillfully carved with ancient elven patterns.

"Let it remind you of this adventure," said the wizard.

Hans admired his new exhibit and put it in his bag. Then he thanked the wizard and hugged him goodbye. In a wonderful mood, Hans ran along the path to the magical forest, where the cozy house and his collection of sticks awaited him among the roots of an old, spreading oak tree.

THE END.