In the fertile valley of Eherlow, at the very foot of the gloomy Galtian Mountains, there once lived a poor man. He had such a huge hump on his back that it seemed as if another person had been placed on his shoulders. And his head was so heavy that when he sat, his chin rested on his knees, as if on a support. The peasants even became timid when meeting him in some secluded place. And although the poor fellow was harmless and innocent, like a baby, he looked such a freak that he could hardly be mistaken for a person, so even some bad people told all sorts of tales about him.
They said that he was well versed in herbs and knew how to cast a spell. But what he was really good at doing was weaving hats and baskets out of straw and reeds. This is how he earned his living.
Fox Tail - so called because he pinned a sprig of "fairy cap" or foxtail to his straw hat - always received an extra penny over others for his baskets, and perhaps that is why some envious people told all sorts of tall tales about him.
Be that as it may, one fine evening he was returning from the town of Cahir in the direction of Cappagh, and since little Fox Tail walked very slowly - after all, he had a huge hump on his back - it was already completely dark when he reached the old Knockgraton Hill, located on the right side of the road.
He was tired and exhausted, and he still had to trudge a very long way, he would have had to walk all night - one could simply fall into despair just from the thought of it. So he sat down at the foot of the hill to rest and looked sadly at the moon.
Soon the discordant sounds of some wild melody reached his ears. Short Fox Tail listened and thought that he had never heard such delightful music before. It sounded like a choir of several voices, and one voice merged so strangely with another that it seemed as if only one voice was singing, and yet all the voices made different sounds. The words of the song were like this.
Da Luan, Da Mort, Da Luan, Da Mort, Da Luan, Da Mort.
Monday, Tuesday, Monday, Tuesday, Monday, Tuesday.
Then a short pause, and again the same melody.
Fox Tail held his breath, afraid to miss even one note, and listened carefully. Now he could clearly discern that the singing was coming from the hill, and although at first the music had enchanted him so much, he gradually became tired of listening to the same song over and over again without any changes.
And so, taking advantage of the pause when Da Luan, Da Mort sounded three times, he picked up the melody and finished singing it with the words:
Agush Da Dardiin. And Wednesday.
And so he continued to sing along with the voices from the hill - Monday, Tuesday, and when there was a pause again, he again finished the melody with the words: “And Wednesday.”
The elves of Knockgraton Hill - and this was the song of the elves - were simply delighted when they heard an addition to their song. And then they decided to invite a mere mortal who had so far surpassed them in the art of music. And so little Fox Tail flew towards them with the speed of a whirlwind.
A delightful picture opened up to his eyes when he, like a light feather in a whirling whirlwind, descended into the hill to the sounds of wondrous music flowing in time with his movement. They gave him the greatest honors, as they considered him the best of the best musicians, and gave him a warm welcome, and offered him everything he wanted, surrounded him with caring servants - in a word, they looked after him as if he were the first person in the country.
Soon Fox Tail saw a large procession come forward from the crowd of elves, and although he was received here very kindly, he still felt somehow creepy. But then one fairy separated from the procession, approached him and said:
Fox Tail! Fox Tail! Your word is to the word, Your song is to the place, And you yourself are to the court. Look at yourself rejoicing, not mourning: There was a hump, and there is no hump.
At these words, poor little Fox Tail suddenly felt such lightness and such happiness - well, at least with one jump he could now jump to the moon. And with inexplicable pleasure he saw how the hump fell from his back to the ground. Then he tried to raise his head, but very carefully, for fear of hitting the ceiling of the luxurious hall in which he was. And then, with greater surprise and admiration, he began to look again and again at all the objects around him, and from time to time they seemed to him more and more beautiful; this splendor made his head spin, his vision darkened, and finally he fell into a deep sleep, and when he woke up, day had long since arrived, the sun was shining brightly, and the birds were singing tenderly. He saw that he was lying at the foot of Knockgraton Hill, with cows and sheep grazing peacefully around him.
And the first thing Fox Tail did - of course, after he read the prayer - was to put his hand behind his back to check if there was a hump, but there was no trace of it. Here Fox Tail looked at himself, not without pride - he had become such a slender, nimble fellow. And, not only that, he also discovered a completely new dress on himself and decided that the fairies probably sewed it for him.
And so he went to Kappag with such a light step and even skipping, as if he had been a dancer all his life. None of the people he met recognized him without a hump, and it took him great effort to convince them that he was him, although, to tell the truth, he was no longer him, at least when it comes to beauty.
Of course, the story about the Fox Tail and his hump very quickly spread around everyone and caused everyone's surprise. All over the country, for many miles around, everyone, old and young, knew nothing but talking about it.
And then one fine morning, when the contented Fox Tail was sitting at the threshold of his hut, an old woman approached him and asked if he would show her the way to Kappag.
“Why should I show you the way there, good woman,” said Fox Tail, “if this is Kappag.” Who do you need here?
“I came from the village of Disi,” answered the old woman, “in County Waterford, to see a man named Fox Tail.” They say that fairies removed his hump. But you see, my neighbor has a son and he also has a hump, which seems to bring him to death. So, maybe if he used the same witchcraft as Fox Tail, his hump would also come off. Well, now I've told you everything, why I went so far. Maybe I’ll find out everything about this witchcraft, you know?
Then Fox Tail told this woman everything in detail - after all, he was a kind guy - and how he added the end to the song of the Knockgrafton elves, and how his hump fell off his back, and how, in addition, he received a new dress.
The woman thanked him warmly and went home, happy and reassured. Returning back to County Waterford to her gossip's house, she told her everything that Fox Tail had said, and so they put the little hunchback on a cart and drove him across the country.
But I must tell you that this hunchback was a crappy and cunning person from his very birth.
The path ahead was long, but the women didn’t even think about it, just so that the hump would come off. And so, towards nightfall, they took the hunchback to the old Knockgraton Hill and left him there.
Before Jack Madden—that was the man’s name—had time to sit for a while, he heard a song even more melodious than before, coming from the hill. This time the elves performed it as Fox Tail composed for them.
Da Luan, Da Mort, Da Luan, Da Mort, Da Luan, Da Mort, Agush Da Dardiin.
Monday, Tuesday, Monday, Tuesday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, they sang their song without any pause. Jack Madden was in such a hurry to get over his hump that he did not even think to wait for the elves to finish their song, and did not seize the right moment to tighten their tune, as Fox Tail did. And so, after listening to their song seven times in a row, he just blurted out:
Agush Da Dardiin, Agush Da Hena.
And Wednesday, And Thursday - without paying attention to the rhythm or the nature of the melody, without even thinking whether these words would be appropriate or out of place. He only thought about one thing: since one day is good, that means two are better, and if Fox Tail got one brand new suit, then he’ll get two.
No sooner had these words left his lips than he was lifted up and then forcefully thrown down into the hill. Angry elves crowded around him, they made noise and shouted, interrupting each other:
-Who ruined our song? Who ruined our song?
And one came closer to the hunchback than the others and said: Jack Madden! Jack Mzden!
Your word is not new, Your speeches will be contradicted by the song, And you yourself are inappropriate. You were poor, you became rich, You were hunchbacked, you became twice hunchbacked.
And then twenty of the strongest elves dragged Fox Tail's hump and put it on poor Jack's back, on top of his own. And it stuck to the place so tightly, as if the most skillful carpenter had nailed it down. And then the elves threw the poor fellow out of their castle. And when the next morning Jack Madden's mother and her gossip came to look at him, they found him half dead at the foot of the hill with a second hump on his back.
You can imagine how they looked at each other! But they didn’t say a word, because they were afraid that their hump might grow too. With a gloomy look they took the unfortunate Jack Madden home, and their souls were also as gloomy as two gossips can be. And either from the weight of the second hump, or from the long journey, the hunchback soon died, bequeathing, as they said, his eternal damnation to anyone who would henceforth listen to the singing of the elves.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru