Elastair and John were the names of two fiddlers who lived in Strathspey. These two were the poorest of the poor. They had been so unlucky lately that they decided to move to Inverness. And of course, they set off on foot, and not in a gilded carriage. And along the way they went into villages and played there: sometimes for a few pence, but sometimes only for dinner or overnight stay.
“I hope we have better luck in Inverness,” said Elastair when they were already close to their goal.
“At any rate, it won’t get any worse,” said John, looking sadly at his rags and at the big toe protruding from his shoe.
But unfortunately, luck did not await them in Inverness. When they finally reached the city, winter had set in and the ground was hidden under high drifts of snow. The violinists took their violins out of their cases and began to play a merry jig. But there was not a soul on the street, and there was no one to listen to them. The good people of Inverness hid in their homes and warmed themselves by their fires.
“We’re trying in vain,” John sighed. - Put the violins aside, and let’s look for a better place to hide from this angry wind.
At this time, an old man emerged from the darkness of a deserted street.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” he said in a raspy voice. — Are you, by any means, musicians?
“They are the same,” Elastair answered. “Only on a night like this all our music is wasted.”
“There’s wind in your pockets and wind in your stomach,” John said. - One word: woe are we violinists.
“If you agree to play for me, I will fill both your stomachs and your pockets,” said the old man.
Before he could finish, Jon and Elastair raised their violins under their chins and...
They never dreamed of such a successful meeting!
“No, no,” the old man stopped them, putting his hand on Elastair’s shoulder. - Not here. Come follow me.
“Strange old man,” John managed to whisper in his friend’s ear.
“Uh, follow him like that,” Elastair answered. And the old man set off, and the violinists followed him.
So they reached Tonaurich Hill. Having risen to the middle of the hill, the old man stopped in front of a large house. From the street it seemed that there was not a soul in the house. There was no light, there was dead silence. The old man climbed the steps to the massive door, and although he did not have time to knock, the door silently opened in front of him.
The violinists froze in place and looked at each other in amazement. Jon felt uneasy and was ready to run away without looking back if Elastair had not reminded him that warmth and a good dinner awaited them here.
Annoyed by the delay, the old man turned to the two friends and angrily told them to hurry up if they did not decide to break the agreement. And as soon as the violinists crossed the threshold of the strange house, the door silently closed behind them. Then they finally saw the light and heard noise, screams and laughter. The old man led them through another door, and they found themselves in a luxurious ballroom of unprecedented beauty.
In the corner stood a long table laden with exotic dishes. Just the sight of them made Jon and Elastair's mouths water.
At the table sat beautiful ladies and gentlemen, dressed in silk and satin, all in lace and jewelry.
“Sit down at the table and eat without hesitation,” the hospitable old man invited his friends.
But the violinists did not need a special invitation. It’s been a long time since they’ve had the opportunity to eat so much and drink so much! And when they had already eaten and drunk enough, John suddenly noticed that the old man had disappeared somewhere. He told his friend about this, to which he replied:
“To tell the truth, I didn’t see him leave the hall, but in this strange house nothing can surprise me.” Get up, John, grab your violin, and let's play in gratitude for such a wonderful dinner.
The violinists began to play, and the elegant gentlemen and ladies began to dance. And the faster the bows flashed in the air, the faster the dancers spun. Nobody thought about fatigue. It seemed to Elastair and John that they had only been playing for half an hour, when suddenly that old man appeared in the hall again, just as unexpectedly as he had disappeared.
- Enough playing! - he ordered. — Dawn is coming soon. And it's time for you to go.
With these words, he handed the violinists each a bag of gold.
- But we played for only a short time and weren’t even tired, why do we need so much money? - asked honest John.
“Take it and go,” the old man answered briefly. The young people obediently took the money and left, very pleased with their luck.
Elastair was the first to notice a strange change in the surroundings when they were already close to the city.
—Where do these new houses come from? - he marveled. “I bet this place was a wasteland last night.”
“It was dark in the evening,” John answered, “you might not have noticed them.” Besides, these houses don’t seem so new to me at all.
— Did you see this bridge yesterday? - asked Elastair.
“I don’t remember exactly,” John answered uncertainly.
- If it had been yesterday, we would have walked along it, right?
John began to have doubts. Everything now seemed different to him than it had been yesterday. He decided to turn to a passerby and find out if they were where they thought they were. But the first person they met was a very strangely dressed gentleman, and when John asked him about the bridge and the houses, he answered with a laugh that they had been standing in this place for a long time. Saying goodbye to them, he laughed again, noting:
- What a wonderful couple you are! Are you coming from a costume ball in this funny old-fashioned dress?
Of course, their dress couldn’t be called new, but what’s funny about that? And Jon and Elastair thought it rude to laugh at their dress when the passer-by himself was dressed so ridiculously. However, once on the streets of the city, they noticed that all the men, women and children were dressed in the same ridiculous and strange way. And the shops had strange, unfamiliar clothes on display. And they all even spoke with some strange, unfamiliar accent. And the violinists themselves were laughed at when they turned to anyone with questions. And for some reason everyone stared at them in surprise.
“Let’s go back to Strathspey,” Elastair suggested.
“Well, there’s nothing keeping us here anymore,” John agreed. “And I don’t really like the people here.” They treat us like some kind of buffoons.
And the friends turned back to Strathspey. This time they were traveling on horseback - they had plenty of money, they could pay for lodging and dinner with wine.
And now they played the violin only for their own pleasure.
But when they reached their hometown, they barely recognized him. Here, too, everything has changed: the streets, the houses, the bridges, and the people—absolutely everything.
They went to the farmer for milk, but it turned out that he already had a new wife. In any case, neither they recognized her, nor she them. And the children playing in front of the school did not greet them or run up to them, as they usually did. And the school itself has changed, as if it has become larger and its roof has been repainted.
Then they rushed to their best friend James, a local blacksmith, to tell him how lucky they had been, and at the same time to ask why everything had suddenly changed so much in their native Strathspey and how their mutual friends were doing.
However, the blacksmith also turned out to be a complete stranger, someone they had never seen before, and he had never even heard of their friends.
The seriously alarmed young people headed to the church, hoping to see some of their friends there and find out from them what had happened. But the church, too, turned out to be no longer the small modest church that they remembered, but became larger, richer, only the cemetery next to it did not change.
They opened the gate and walked along the path between the graves. Suddenly Elastair grabbed John by the sleeve.
- It’s not strange that we didn’t find the blacksmith James at home! - he exclaimed. - Here is his grave.
Not believing his eyes, John carefully read the inscription on the gravestone.
- But this is incredible! - he said. “When we left Strathspey three weeks ago, James was only a little over twenty years old, just like us, and here it is written that he died ninety-three years old.”
The violinist friends glanced at the other graves. All their friends were already buried here.
- Now I understand everything! - Elastair exclaimed. “Then, in Inverness, we played for the beautiful fairies and their merry gentlemen, and that old man was probably their king himself!” “And he added sadly: “Oh, we played there for a long time.” Too long...
Yes, this is how it happens: it seems that you spent only half an hour in the land of the elves, but returned to your native places and you don’t recognize anyone: who has grown old, and who is no longer in the world.
How time flies on wings in this cheerful, forever young magical land.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru