Once upon a time a young beekeeper lived on a wild moor. People said the bees could understand the lad, and he could understood them. He spent all his time with the bees, talking and singing and watching them at work.
One day, as he was returning to his cottage, he found a small white hare sitting upon his front stoop. The lad expected her to run when she saw him, but she sat still as a statue. He bent down to pet her, and still she did not move. When he opened his front door, she hopped inside. She hopped right onto a chair, and from there she hopped onto the dining table. She sat down right beside the beekeeper's supper plate.
Now the beekeeper looked closely at her, and noticed that her eyes were not pink or brown, as hares' eyes are. Her eyes were brightest blue, as blue as the springtime sky. He smiled at her, and she winked at him, and he knew at that moment they would be great friends.
The next morning the beekeeper took the hare to meet his bees. He moved from hive to hive, and the bees buzzed wildly around the hare's head, but she did not duck or dart away. "Ay, you are a friend indeed," the lad said, and once again he patted his pretty white hare.
That afternoon an old woman walked past the hives. When she spotted the hare with those eyes of blue, she smiled and stopped to chat. "What a lovely hare you have. How much will you be asking for her?"
"She's not for sale," the beekeeper said cheerfully. "She's my friend."
The woman frowned. "I'll pay you a great deal," she said, and she lifted a bag of coins from her skirts and began to count them out -- one, two, three, four.
The beekeeper just shook his head. "No," he insisted, and clenched his hands into fists, letting the woman's coins fall to the ground as she tried to press them into his hands. "My friend is not for sale."
A huge swarm of bees began to buzz angrily around the old woman's head, and so she turned and ran. But as she ran, she called out a warning, "Keep an eye on that hare," and disappeared over the hillside. The bees followed her until she was out of sight.
From that day on, the beekeeper took the hare with him wherever he went, and they became the best of friends. But each night at midnight, the hare crept into his bed and began to shake and shiver. "Whatever is the matter, my friend?" the lad would ask, and the hare would shake and shiver and crawl deeper under the quilts.
One day at the market the lad saw the old woman again. When the hare spotted her, she began to shake and shiver. The lad turned to one of the merchants and asked, "Who is that woman over there?"
"Ay, she's a witch," the merchant whispered. "Keep away from her, for she has many powers," and so the lad, clasping the hare closely to his chest, ran back home.
The days went on. One sunny morning, a brightly colored gypsy caravan happened past the boy's cottage. He waved to them as they rode past, and when they were gone, he saw that a sack of grain had fallen from their caravan. He ran outside, picked it up, and began to run after the gypsies. "Your grain," he called as he ran. The hare hopped right behind him.
At long last he caught up with the gypsies, who had pulled to the side of the road.
A young boy poked his head out of the caravan. "What is it you want?" the boy asked the lad.
"You dropped your grain," said the beekeeper, and he handed the sack to the boy.
"Thank you," said the gypsy, and then he looked down at the hare. "Now what is this?" he asked.
The beekeeper laughed. "Surely you have seen a hare before?" he said.
At that moment the gypsy boy's mother peered out of the caravan. When she spied the hare, she narrowed her eyes and said, "That's no hare. That's a bewitched lassie. Now since you've been good to us, we'll protect you. Come, come listen to me." And she whispered to the beekeeper.
A few weeks later, the beekeeper did just as the gypsy woman had instructed him. He went from hive to hive, whispering the plan to his bees. That night, under the light of the full moon, he sat outside his cottage, keeping firm hold of the hare, who lay peacefully in his lap. Suddenly she began to jerk and twitch and twist in his arms. That's when the beekeeper knew it must be midnight. At that hour, the witch was using all her power to reclaim her hare. The beekeeper held her still more tightly.
A cloud passed before the moon, and the boy looked down at his hare, but now, instead of a hare, he held a blue-eyed lassie in his arms. She threw her arms around his neck. "You've saved me from the witch," she cried. "She turned me into a hare when I wouldn't do her bidding, and I escaped from her. Now I will always be your best friend in the world."
"And I yours," said the lad.
The next day news spread quickly. Everyone in the village was talking about the death of the old woman who was stung to death by bees at the river's edge. "Strange," the people said. "Usually the bees are quiet at this time of year."
"Strange things do happen sometimes," the beekeeper replied, and he and his young lassie lived happily together with their bees.
The second book collection of wonderful tales from "Tell Me a Story" is available for $14.95, plus $2 for postage and handling. Send your orders to "The Spectacular Gift," in care of Andrews & McMeel, P.O. Box 419242, Kansas City, Mo. 64141; or call (800) 642-6480. Be sure to indicate your newspaper's name on your order. Allow three to four weeks for delivery.
One day, as he was returning to his cottage, he found a small white hare sitting upon his front stoop. The lad expected her to run when she saw him, but she sat still as a statue. He bent down to pet her, and still she did not move. When he opened his front door, she hopped inside. She hopped right onto a chair, and from there she hopped onto the dining table. She sat down right beside the beekeeper's supper plate.
Now the beekeeper looked closely at her, and noticed that her eyes were not pink or brown, as hares' eyes are. Her eyes were brightest blue, as blue as the springtime sky. He smiled at her, and she winked at him, and he knew at that moment they would be great friends.
The next morning the beekeeper took the hare to meet his bees. He moved from hive to hive, and the bees buzzed wildly around the hare's head, but she did not duck or dart away. "Ay, you are a friend indeed," the lad said, and once again he patted his pretty white hare.
That afternoon an old woman walked past the hives. When she spotted the hare with those eyes of blue, she smiled and stopped to chat. "What a lovely hare you have. How much will you be asking for her?"
"She's not for sale," the beekeeper said cheerfully. "She's my friend."
The woman frowned. "I'll pay you a great deal," she said, and she lifted a bag of coins from her skirts and began to count them out -- one, two, three, four.
The beekeeper just shook his head. "No," he insisted, and clenched his hands into fists, letting the woman's coins fall to the ground as she tried to press them into his hands. "My friend is not for sale."
A huge swarm of bees began to buzz angrily around the old woman's head, and so she turned and ran. But as she ran, she called out a warning, "Keep an eye on that hare," and disappeared over the hillside. The bees followed her until she was out of sight.
From that day on, the beekeeper took the hare with him wherever he went, and they became the best of friends. But each night at midnight, the hare crept into his bed and began to shake and shiver. "Whatever is the matter, my friend?" the lad would ask, and the hare would shake and shiver and crawl deeper under the quilts.
One day at the market the lad saw the old woman again. When the hare spotted her, she began to shake and shiver. The lad turned to one of the merchants and asked, "Who is that woman over there?"
"Ay, she's a witch," the merchant whispered. "Keep away from her, for she has many powers," and so the lad, clasping the hare closely to his chest, ran back home.
The days went on. One sunny morning, a brightly colored gypsy caravan happened past the boy's cottage. He waved to them as they rode past, and when they were gone, he saw that a sack of grain had fallen from their caravan. He ran outside, picked it up, and began to run after the gypsies. "Your grain," he called as he ran. The hare hopped right behind him.
At long last he caught up with the gypsies, who had pulled to the side of the road.
A young boy poked his head out of the caravan. "What is it you want?" the boy asked the lad.
"You dropped your grain," said the beekeeper, and he handed the sack to the boy.
"Thank you," said the gypsy, and then he looked down at the hare. "Now what is this?" he asked.
The beekeeper laughed. "Surely you have seen a hare before?" he said.
At that moment the gypsy boy's mother peered out of the caravan. When she spied the hare, she narrowed her eyes and said, "That's no hare. That's a bewitched lassie. Now since you've been good to us, we'll protect you. Come, come listen to me." And she whispered to the beekeeper.
A few weeks later, the beekeeper did just as the gypsy woman had instructed him. He went from hive to hive, whispering the plan to his bees. That night, under the light of the full moon, he sat outside his cottage, keeping firm hold of the hare, who lay peacefully in his lap. Suddenly she began to jerk and twitch and twist in his arms. That's when the beekeeper knew it must be midnight. At that hour, the witch was using all her power to reclaim her hare. The beekeeper held her still more tightly.
A cloud passed before the moon, and the boy looked down at his hare, but now, instead of a hare, he held a blue-eyed lassie in his arms. She threw her arms around his neck. "You've saved me from the witch," she cried. "She turned me into a hare when I wouldn't do her bidding, and I escaped from her. Now I will always be your best friend in the world."
"And I yours," said the lad.
The next day news spread quickly. Everyone in the village was talking about the death of the old woman who was stung to death by bees at the river's edge. "Strange," the people said. "Usually the bees are quiet at this time of year."
"Strange things do happen sometimes," the beekeeper replied, and he and his young lassie lived happily together with their bees.
The second book collection of wonderful tales from "Tell Me a Story" is available for $14.95, plus $2 for postage and handling. Send your orders to "The Spectacular Gift," in care of Andrews & McMeel, P.O. Box 419242, Kansas City, Mo. 64141; or call (800) 642-6480. Be sure to indicate your newspaper's name on your order. Allow three to four weeks for delivery.
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